You Again
by DaisyWillLiveForever
Summary: Draco Malfoy thought that he had escaped his past by moving to muggle America. After a run-in at the local bar, he isn't so sure anymore. 'His Death Eater days were long over. And then here came Granger, marching into his supposed to be 'relaxing' lunch, a dark mark on her arm and a mysterious little boy to match.' AU T for swearing and violence
1. Chapter 1

_Summary-_

_Draco Malfoy thought that he had escaped his past by moving to muggle America. After a run-in at the local bar, he isn't so sure anymore. 'His Death Eater days were long over. And then here came Granger, marching into his supposed to be 'relaxing' lunch, a dark mark on her arm and a mysterious little boy to match.' disregards last half (or so) of DH Rated 'T' for swearing and violence_

_A/N- hello readers! This is a story idea that I've had in my head for a very long time. WARNING. If you're looking for a quick read this is NOT it. While I respect other author's stories, I don't write stories where the main characters fall in love in the first ten chapters. I can promise you Dramione, but it will be very subtle in the beginning because Draco is not going to do a complete 180 in a week. Please review, it's great to know what people think or if they have any suggestions! ~DWLF (wow that is a weird acronym) (oh and if Hermione is a bit out of character in this chapter, don't worry. Her motives will be explained in the next one!)_

DISCLAIMER- I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, there would be a lot more 'No-nose Voldemort' jokes

Chapter One

Evan McDermitt was sitting at the local bar, a drink in one hand, a fork in another. Pushing the beef around his plate, he stabbed it so suddenly that the action elicited a sharp intake of breath from the person to his right. She picked up her drink and moved down a few seats before settling in front of a box-like telly. _T.V._ as they called it here. Evan resisted the urge to sneer at her; those days were over, he reminded himself. The boyish days of being flat out rude to people. Ah yes, those were the days indeed...

Life had changed him, of course. This lunch, which once would've been considered cheap and unworthy of his time, was a treat. Evan tried to keep to business and not socialize while in town, it only complicated things. And these people were muggles. American muggles without a trace of magic in them. A few years ago, the bitter blonde would have scoffed at the thought of them being considered human, but living with them changed him. And yes, Evan had his respectable colleagues, but they were all extensions of his job. Nothing more.

There were the nightmares that plagued him of course; nightmares of the wizarding world that cast his mind into chaos whenever he thought about them in the daylight. His name was Evan McDermitt, not... that _other _name. The awful name which his parents had christened him with at such a young age. The name that would've followed him everywhere had he stayed in Britain...

Swirling the brandy in the glass, Evan watched as the ice clinked against the sides. Tipping his head back he drank, enjoying the burn that fell down his throat. This was bliss.

The door to the restaurant swung open and the trill of a child's voice could be heard. It was brief, but Evan's eyes snapped towards the entrance, searching for the interruption of his paradise. A small blonde boy was ducking behind his petite mother, whose back was facing the bar. She bent over, unbuttoning the little boy's deep green rain jacket. He laughed at something his mother had said, although the boy's features were hidden by the woman's legs.

Evan grimaced and turned away, taking a bite of his lunch. _Don't think about happy family. That little boy could've been you, had your parents been more loving... _Evan swallowed the lump in his throat while simultaneously pushing the wistful thoughts back, taking another mesmerizing gulp of his whiskey. Whiskey, a muggle drink that the wizard seemed to love more than life itself. Whiskey; the drink that made the past dissipate into nothing.

"Come on," A feminine British voice called, getting closer by the minute, "Come on, sweetie, we haven't got all day," Evan never understood why parent's called their boys 'sweethearts' and other rubbish names like. They were going to be men, not pathetic two year old _girls. _But then again, there were many things about the world that Evan never quite grasped.

The brunette's obnoxious tone was getting louder. Perhaps she was getting closer to the bar, although she had a young child with her, therefore the bartender would not allow her so much as a sip of alcohol. These country muggles sure believed in morals, like 'go to church every Sunday or you're going to Hell' motives. Evan never had fully grasped the idea of God.

Someone sat next to him, bringing the wizard out of his thoughts, "I'm not here for a drink," She dismissed the bartender's unanswered question, "I was merely wondering if there was a town map around or perhaps a gas station…"

The voice, _her _voice sounded astoundingly familiar to Evan, but he forced himself not to look, to keep his head down. Shoving another pile of food into his mouth, the blonde chewed several times before swallowing the beef. It was extra rare, just the way he liked it. Back at… _home _(if that was even the correct word for it) the house elves had always over cooked the steak a bit, and no matter how many times they were scolded and punished, it never got pinker. Eating it so red on the inside it might moo was a rebellion of sorts, even if his parents were probably dead by now, as with the house elves.

Once again, the voice of a female lifted Evan out of his thoughts, "Draco… Draco Malfoy?"

Ah yes, Evan McDermitt was in fact Draco Malfoy.

Oh Gods. He had not heard that name in a long time. Turning his head to face the source of the noise, he was met with the sight of wide brown eyes staring questioningly at him. She swept several strands of thick brown hair back from her face, revealing a long, thin scar. It would've been invisible to anyone who was not within a few feet of her, but he could see it plain as day. What had he done to deserve this? Why was she here now? One thought stuck out in his head, and it was _Deny everything._

"That's not my name," He replied curtly, reaching blindly for his glass. He could feel her eyes on him, lips pursed in determination. It was true, sort of. Draco Malfoy was not his name anymore.

"Is it now? I recognize you, ferret. I'm not stupid," The nickname _ferret_ caused a certain anger to well up inside him. Why her, of all bloody people? He would rather have to deal with Voldemort himself than her.

"Well," Leaning closer, Draco placed a hand on the bar to support himself, "It's nice seeing you again, Mudblood,"

Instead of screaming at him like a banshee, Granger merely smiled tightly, "Not in front of my son," The little blonde boy, who looked no older than six, poked his head out from where he had been hiding under the bar. The boy had impossibly white-blonde hair and deep, stormy grey eyes. He smiled, revealing tiny white teeth and the cutest dimples Draco had ever seen.

"Someone got busy," Draco remarked, leaning back to take a swig from his glass. The boy's appearance unnerved him; he looked exactly like he had when he was that age, although the boy's hair was wavier.

"Draco-"

"Bloody hell woman," Draco snapped, not wanting to be referred to as that, "That is not my name here. I'm Evan McDermitt," Holding out his right hand, he was surprised when Granger grasped it with her left. She was wearing a long-sleeved, creamy blue colored shirt and jeans, a very muggle thing of her to do. When she shook his hand, her sleeve rode up, revealing the edge of a faded grey tattoo.

Without registering his actions, Draco pushed the sleeve up, hissing when he found the dark mark there. "Shit, Granger, what did you do?" Meeting her eyes, Evan was shocked to find tears in them.

"Not here Malf-_Evan,"_ She corrected herself firmly, removing her arm from his clutches, "I'll explain everything, I promise, but not now," Indeed, people around the bar were sending them suspicious looks, though they did that whenever someone new came into town.

"Alright Ms. Granger," A smirk graced Draco's features, to which the brunette frowned, "We should go somewhere more private so we can… _talk,_"

"Why should I do that?" Her answer was so Gryffindor of her that Draco nearly burst into laughter at it. This was his old school rival, Potter's best friend and now a Death Eater (something which he had not even begun to wrap his head around), yet here he was, bickering lightly with her in a pub. It was a quite interesting experience indeed.

"You initiated the conversation," Draco rolled his grey eyes, "You talked to me first,"

The bartender arrived back at them, frowning at their engagement in conversation. Perhaps the dark-haired, muscly man wanted the brunette all to himself. Draco couldn't care less; he could have her. "I brought you some maps, Ms…?"

"Smith," Sticking out a hand to shake, Hermione filled in the blank, "Julia Smith,"

Draco watched with amusement as the man's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had been in a close enough proximity that he heard Draco refer to her as 'Granger' several times. The bartender nodded and gave her the maps, brushing his hand against his dirty red apron.

Watching the blonde child pull a small red toy car from his jacket pocket, Draco remarked, "So, your child then?"

Granger sighed, gazing down at the boy wistfully, "He's been through hell and back. It might not look it, but he's a fighter," At the word 'fighter' the child looked up, his face blank of emotion. The red car was being rolled back and forth in his left palm by his pointer finger on his right. It was a repetitive motion, almost as if the boy was doing it without thinking. He blinked then shuddered, pressing against his mother's leg. The car-moving was stopped, and he clutched the toy firmly in his tiny fist.

Draco fought the urge to question Granger about what the boy had been through. Instead he dived into a different topic on the child, "So, he looks like me,"

Instantly, the brunette's defenses were up, "Loads of people have got blonde hair and grey eyes, _Mafloy,_" She hissed his true last name so low that only he could hear, "I don't see why it should matter,"

"It does though," Draco reached across the bar to snatch several napkins to wipe his face of any food residue, "Because of the Manor…"

Granger's eyes shut as if to block out the memories, "Shut up, please. I can't do this here. Don't you have a house or somewhere more private we could talk?"

Draco stared at the once brave woman in front of him, "Have you been looking for me?" He didn't answer her question. He was curious. Was she on the run from the Dark Lord? The only reason why he'd fled to muggle America was because he wanted to get away from wizards. After Voldemort triumphed over Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the one person in which all others held hope, Draco knew that it was fight or flight. He had joined as a boy under his father's duress, because he was a foolish and power-hungry. He did it under the threat that his parents might be killed if he did not do exactly as the Dark Lord dictated. After the victory that he never thought would come, Draco knew that he must flee, also knowing that he had to sever his wizarding ties completely. And he did. He created a fake name, a fake past, a new job in a small, rural state in Kansas. What kind of bloody name was Kansas anyways? Who wants to live in a place called _Kansas. _He was pretty untraceable, and he figured that Voldemort would have bigger things on his plate than to run about searching for a scared eighteen year-old boy. Having no major news about the man for five years, Draco assumed that he was still in power in Britain. The only way that Granger could have found him was to track him down.

"Not really," She sighed, running a small hand through her son's hair, "Fate is a fickle thing,"

Draco scowled, "Alliteration, mudblood, alliteration"

Granger glanced up from her son's head, frowning, "Listen ferret face, I'm not playing you games. Just because I've met you here, by chance or destiny or whatever you want to believe, and we have had a sane conversation doesn't mean that I am willing to put up with your rubbish. I wanted to talk to you about everything that has happened in the last few years, but apparently you can't stomach the thought of a stupid Gryffindor muggleborn in your presence any longer. I am sorry to have interrupted your precious drinking time," She stood, eyes blazing, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"Come on, let's go," Her son grasped his mother's hand, standing from his position on the floor. He glanced back at the lonely blonde man at the bar, a confused look in his eye.

Draco had to stop them from leaving. Now.

Standing, he reached into his wallet, yanking a twenty out. Slapping it on the bar, he ran after Granger and her peculiar son. "Wait!" Bursting through the doors, his words stopped her in her tracks. Why in the world was he even going after her? He had just finished building a new life, creating something that didn't involve death or destruction or torture. While they were muggles, they were innocent, good-hearted people who loved working hard and a cold beer. Draco was not sociable in any means but he did not want to do wrong to those who were completely oblivious, not really. His Death Eater days were long over. And then here came Granger, marching into his supposed to be 'relaxing' lunch, a dark mark on her arm and a mysterious little boy to match. Draco didn't know why he went after her; perhaps it was the craving to know more about what had happened after, what the wizarding world was like now. Maybe it was the chance to finally get some answers as to what conspired between them at the Manor during the Easter Holidays so long ago. No matter the reason, Draco had in fact gone after her, and he waited desperately for her to acknowledge him.

"What do you want?" Her voice was flat, her back to him, though the child standing next to her looked up at Draco, a calculating look on his face. As though if the older blonde said the right thing then he would be deemed acceptable.

The wind blew through the street, rustling a few leaves and blowing a coke can down the road with several loud clatters. Folding his arms over his chest, Draco thought for a moment, not about his answer but about life in general. How he was just a man, long forgotten in the war, and how, at that moment, his insignificance didn't bother him. Not connecting his mouth to his brain, Draco began to speak.

"Because I want to talk, Granger, why else? I would like to know how good ol' Tom is doing. Has he killed off all the muggles in London yet?"

Hermione nodded, turning to face, pulling the maps she had stuffed into her jeans pocket out. A pen was produced as well. Bloody hell, how much space did she have in there anyways? "What's your address?"

Draco took the pen from her hand, scrawling the familiar numbers and letters on the edge of the glossy surface. Granger took it back, frowning at his expression, "What time should I meet you?"

Glancing at his watch, Draco answered, "By seven. And please, don't expect too much. I want answers. That's all,"

He did not believe the words he spoke, and apparently, neither did she. Smirking in a way that would make his father proud, Granger began to walk down the street, little boy in tow. Turning her head to the side to call over her shoulder, "That's more than I expected of you, _Evan,_"

"Evan, what's bothering you?" Draco's eyes snapped back to his flirtatious secretary, Clara, before flickering to her risqué cleavage.

"Erm," Clara was the kind of woman that Draco tried to avoid; easy, sleazy, and desperate. Draco didn't mind the easy aspect (what man doesn't need a good shag every now and then?) but everything else was just wrong. Besides, wasn't sleeping with your secretary something people only did in movies? Draco inadvertently cringed, "Nothing Clara, nothing at all,"

Giving him a pouty look, the dark-haired woman handed him a manila envelope full of papers, "Whatever you say, Mr. McDermitt,"

Snatching the envelope from her, Draco turned on his heel and stalked away. Why did all women have to get into his bloody personal shit? It wasn't his fault that he was secretive (once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin) and for Pete's sake, he was not some sort of doll to obsess over!

Storming into his office, Draco slammed the door shut with such force that it rattled the expensive art on the wall. Settling into the comfortable arm chair at his desk, Draco began to flip through the papers that had been given him. They were all legal questions about interest and housing issues. Draco cast them aside, frown lines forming between his eyebrows.

_She's a mudblood. She's a mudblood. So why the hell do I care? Why did I even talk to her? I should've left the restaurant as soon as I saw her. And I gave her my address! To come over and talk! What will we have, tea and crumpets while discussing Voldemort and the paternity of her child? The boy that looks just like me, but with curlier hair and neither of our abilities to keep quiet for an extended period of time. What the hell are you playing at, Draco Malfoy? What are you doing?_

"Evan,"

A deep voice shocked the paranoid blonde out of his reverie.

Grey eyes met dark brown, and Draco immediately sat up straighter.

"Good afternoon, Evan," The deep skinned man addressed casually, "I do hope you've had a wonderful lunch," Nodding, Draco motioned to the seat across from him.

"Please, sit Mr. Linney,"

"Evan," Mr. Linney crossed his arms in a joking fashion, his eyes flickering about the small office distractedly, "How many times have I asked you to call me Caleb?"

Draco grimaced. Mr. Linney was his boss. It would be strange to say his first name so openly. "Right, I'll keep it in mind. What have you travelled all the way down here for, Mr. Linney? It must be mighty important,"

Sighing, Mr. Linney sat in the blue-padded chair across from his employee, "Well you see, Mr. McDermitt, America is not in a good economical state at the moment,"

Draco knew. He saw the prices rise and, more often than not, a disappointed and angry worker leaving an office that they had been employed at until very recently. Yes, Draco knew of the Recession, of the taxes and credit rates. Draco did know. So why was his boss bringing it up?

"I am aware, yes Mr. Linney…" Draco fiddled with his thumbs absently. He prayed to some upper power that he wasn't about to be fired like those pitiful souls he saw, their backs hunched with sadness, when he went into the nearby cities.

Catching the look on Draco's face, Mr. Linney smiled. "Don't look like that, I'm not going to let you go. Just the opposite, in fact," Draco studied the man in front of him. Strong jaw, dark hair, a mischievous look in his dark brown eyes. _Just what is he thinking?_

Pursing his lips, Mr. Linney leaned forward, placing his forefingers to his chin, interlocking the other digits on each hand together. "I have an intern for you, Evan," Draco raised an eyebrow. _An intern…_

"She'll be here tomorrow,"

_She! _Draco thought, smirking subtly. _It's been a while since I've had female relations… perhaps it's time to drag the good ol' Malfoy charm out of the cupboard and put it to good use._

Draco was still considering the likeliness of him getting a good bedding by his new intern when Mr. Linney left.

Draco sighed as he made his way into the kitchen. Looking at the glowing green of the clock numbers, the blonde sighed. It was six fifty. Ten minutes until Granger got there with her quiet son. Ten minutes…

Ten minutes which Draco used to tidy up his messy kitchen table (it was covered in bills, work documents, napkins, pencils, quills, ink bottles, parchment, books, several old muggle newspapers and a blue button) and check the time. Repeatedly. At last, the six fifty nine turned to seven o'clock and (knowing Granger, who could not be a second late for anything) the doorbell rang.

Draco took a deep, calming breath. Walking down the hall, he unlocked the large wooden door and yanked it open. On his porch stood a windswept Hermione Granger and the blonde child, who was holding her hand. Granger was wearing the same outfit from before, which was odd considering how warm it was outside. The young boy had on a red t-shirt with a muggle pattern on it and a pair of jeans. In his hand was the same red toy car he had been playing with at the bar.

"Granger," He nodded curtly, moving aside so she could step in. She did, her large brown eyes instantly on high alert. The little boy squeezed her hand, and Granger's previously wandering eyes snapped to his. They shared a small smile, as though they had an inside joke all of their own. Draco closed the door sharply, scowling when the child jumped. He had not meant to do that.

"Well, _Evan_," _Was she mocking him? _"I know how fun it is to stand about but I haven't got all day and I'd like to get this little meeting over with as quickly as possible,"

Draco sneered at the curly-haired witch in front of him. "Fine then. Would you like something to drink, Granger?"

Shaking her head 'no', Hermione snickered, "Being nice, are we?"

"It's not my fault that my parents taught me proper etiquette," Draco sniffed, turning on his heel to walk back down the hallway and into the kitchen. Granger followed, along with the boy, who had not said a single word since he'd arrived.

"Nice appliances, _Malfoy_," Draco glanced about, looking for what she was referring to. Clearly it was the stove she was talking about, for it was _muggle._ Or maybe the microwave…

"Thanks, _Granger,_" Motioning for her to sit at the table, Draco took his seat in the space across. She gently pushed her son, who appeared quite bored, towards the living room.

"Go play, sweetheart. Just don't get into anything, ok?" He heard her mutter. They shared that same smile from earlier, and Draco suddenly felt the urge to look away. That smile was something very private, something _special._

Granger cleared her throat.

"Oh! Right. Sorry," Draco leaned forward in his wooden seat, leaning his elbows on the smooth surface of the table, "So, Granger, talk to me,"

The brunette glared at him, "You could be nicer, you know,"

"Sorry," _That you're not giving me answers here, Mudblood._

__Sighing, Granger ran a hand over her face, "Dammit, I just…" The witch sighed again, but this time it was out of frustration, not sadness, "I just haven't been in contact with anyone for a while is all. And then I run into you out of nowhere and…"

"Yes," Draco's voice was thin, impatient. Granger must've heard the strain there, for she quickly proceeded.

"Right. I guess I should start at the beginning, shouldn't I?" Running an anxious and through her hair, Granger began to speak. Draco allowed her mellow voice (it wasn't so bad when she wasn't screeching or bossing someone around) to lure him in, preparing him for the story to come, "It all started the summer of 1997…"


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N- Here's chapter two! I know it's a bit of a filler but it's important that we get Hermione's story out of the way. Well, not ALL of it is told, because Draco's still the cruel arrogant git from school to Hermione...At least in this point in the story ;)_

_WARNING. This scene involves mild discussion/thought of rape. Nothing graphic, but I just thought a warning would be a good idea._

_THANKS SO MUCH to all of those who reviewed/faved/followed. I really appreciate it! :)_

_DISCLAIMER- I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, there would be a scarf of sexual preference. (If you don't know what this is from... look it up)_

Chapter Two

"It all began in the summer of 1997, when Harry, Ron and I were hunting Horcruxes,"

Draco opened his mouth to ask what kind of animal a Horcrux was, when Granger raised a hand to stop him.

"A Horcrux is a piece of someone's soul that they place in an inanimate object by killing someone else. It makes the owner of the Horcrux immortal, even if their body itself is dead. They can exist in the most pitiful of forms. It's a dark bit of magic, to split your soul, and the objects that are used can possess people, talk to them…" The brunette looked lost in thought, and her sentence trailed off slowly. Draco fidgeted in his chair, causing a metal button on his pants to scrape gently on the glossy wood. Granger snapped out of her memories, and continued talking, "Anyways… Generally people only create one Horcrux, splitting their soul into two, one half which is still in their body. Voldemort, however, split his," Granger's face darkened considerably, "Into seven,"

Letting out a low whistle of shock, Draco commented, "That explains the whole not dying thing,"

"Yeah," Fiddling with a strand of her hair, the witch continued, "Where was I… Ah yes, 1997. So Harry, Ron and I were hunting for Horcruxes. We started immediately after Bill and Fluer's wedding. We were ambushed, if you remember," Draco did remember, he had been there. The screams of those people, running from the Death Eaters… Running from _him._ "Things got pretty rough while we were travelling around, although we'd been planning it since the end of sixth year," That bit of information shocked Draco. Weren't Gryffindors supposed to launch into things without thinking? "Ron and Harry got into an argument one night, I remember, itw as nearing Christmas… It was over the stability of our findings and it led to other, deeper blows," A sad look wrestled its way onto Hermione Granger's face, "Ron left us,"

Draco suddenly had a very strong urge to punch something.

"It was hell, just Harry and I. Not like he wasn't a good friend, and a great fighter, but we were no longer a trio. It's difficult doing things with just two when you're used to three. Then Harry left one night while he was on watch. When he came back, Ron was with him. They also had the sword of Gryffindor, which they had found in a nearby lake. Harry was dripping wet and Ron was so happy that he'd destroyed a Horcrux…"

"What was it?" Draco interrupted suddenly.

"What?" Granger had gotten wrapped up in her own story, being carried away by the nostalgia, "Oh, you mean the Horcrux?" Without waiting for an answer she kept talking, "It was a necklace, a locket that was once in Number 12 Grimmuld place."

Nodding his head absently, Draco waved his hand, requesting her to get along with the story.

"They later found out that Severus Snape had placed the sword there… We never stole it from Gringotts," Granger's tone was accusing and it would have been no better had she been pointing an angry finger at him and flat-out stating it.

_You just stood there, watching her being tortured, and you KNEW they didn't get it from your aunt's vault, you KNEW how difficult that would be..._

"Well," Her hands were in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her pastel shirt, "You know the rest,"

He did know the rest. His aunt had cast Granger aside, a cruel smile playing at her lips. She'd told Draco to do what he wanted with the girl. Draco had hesitated. He had no desire to violate someone like that: he had seen other Death Eaters do it often enough. He might have been in Slytherin, but he was not a sadistic bastard. Under duress from his father and the sneering men in the corner, Draco had done what he needed to do to ensure that he would not be _Crucio-ed_ into oblivion. But her eyes, her golden-brown eyes, full with tears after the deed was done, were the worst part of it all. They had told him without words that he was forgiven, that she understood that he couldn't do anything else. The tears were also a challenge, a challenge to resist and fight his cowardliness. They were a guilt clause, but they were empathetic because she knew he couldn't stand up and fight. She _understood._

"I… Granger…"

"No matter!" Her unusually chipper tone scared Draco. More than the eerie silence, "On with the story, eh?" She smiled slowly, her eyes becoming glazed over, "We broke into Gringotts. That was quite fun, I got to ride a dragon," Smirking at the double meaning, the blonde leaned back against the chair, "Then there was the battle," Granger's face fell, and the blonde felt a certain sinking in his stomach. Ah. That.

"You don't have to if you don't want to,"

The gentleness in Draco's voice shocked him. He was _not _getting all soft for a mudblood. But those tears…

Sighing in agreement, Hermione nodded, "Right. Well after Voldemort triumphed, Ron, Ginny, Neville and I ran. Luna was with us, but she wanted to go home to fetch her father first," Catching the water brewing behind her lids, Draco understood what exactly had happened to Luna when she tried to get her dad, "It was then that I discovered I was pregnant."

Draco closed his eyes briefly before opening them. Granger had been pregnant during the final battle? Granted she didn't _know_, but… _Perhaps it is Weasley's kid. _The forced ignorance clouded Malfoy's brain. He'd wait for Granger's explanation.

"Well, that made everyone angry, as you can imagine. We were on the run from the darkest wizard alive. Neville was sick. Ginny was mourning. Ron was confused…. We had never slept together… And we were ambushed. By snatchers, and Ron was taken. We saw the news in an old Prophet a few weeks later. He was _dead_." The tears in her eyes were threatening to fall now, "So Ginny, Neville and I kept moving. We went to Italy for a while, so I could have my baby. The place seemed safe enough, and we were in the muggle world when I gave birth. We had all agreed that I would give my child to an orphanage once he was born but as soon as I set eyes on him, I was in love," At this statement, Granger's expression grew dreamy, "He was so perfect, with tiny little toes and tiny little fingers… I held him and I knew that I never wanted to let him go," Laughing at a distant memory, she continued, "I punched Neville in the face when he reminded me that we had a job to complete,"

Draco snickered. Leave it to Hermione Granger to punch Longbottom over an unwanted baby.

Sniffling, the witch continued, "We were back in Britain, much to my arguments. Ginny and Neville convinced me that it was the right thing to do; we had to kill Voldemort and then we would be safe. I put up the strongest wards I know around the tent we were living in, and often times I stayed with Ronnie when they went out to fight,"

"Wait," Draco held up a hand to halt her words, "You named your son _Ronnie_?"

"Don't be daft," Granger scoffed, "It's a nickname,"

Before Draco could ask what for, she was talking again, "We were near Hogsmead for a few days, searching for something. Gods, I don't even remember what for. Anyways, we found Winky… do you remember her? Mr. Crouch's house elf?" Draco (who did not keep track of the house elf activity in the pureblood community) shook his head, "It's a long story as to why she was at Hogwarts, but we found her hiding behind a trashcan in an alleyway, completely drenched in blood, sobbing her little eyes out,

"We discovered that the blood on her was not hers; she claimed that she had been in the middle of a fight, trying to stop it. We never did find out exactly why she was hiding in the wizarding town late at night. However, we needed help and she was offering it,"

The blonde raised a hand, as though to ask a question in class, "Yes, er, what did you need help with?"

Granger shrugged, "With Ronnie, of course. Winky would look after him if Neville, Ginny and I needed to fight off Death Eaters. If things got too bad, we agreed to have her apperate with him to a pre-destined safe area in Australia,"

"Why…"

"My parents live there. I didn't have a chance to restore the memories I'd taken from them after the war but I figured that they wouldn't turn their noses up at a helpless child on their doorstep,"

"Restore…. What?" Draco was completely confused at this bit of information.

"Never mind. It's another story for another time," Granger responded impatiently, as though she wanted to get on with the saga she had been telling.

"Ok, ok, sor-ry," Draco put both his hands up in mock defeat, "Go on,"

"We were in the middle of London, posing as muggles to catch up on a Death Eater's trail. We were going to ambush him and force him to give us information. It was Neville's idea, and we had been tracking the guy for months. While we were out, however, several of Voldemort's 'most elite' discovered where we had left the tent. They broke through our wards and k-killed Winky… And they took Orion away,"

_Orion… She named her son after a constellation?_

Suddenly, Granger's hands flew to her hair, tugging at it angrily, "I was so stupid! I should've been a better mother, I should've stayed with him! But we were all so scared, we were mourning the losses in our families, and trying to end a bloody war! What was I supposed to do? I should've thought of his safety, but I was so selfish! I was so-so… selfish…" Tears fell loose from her eyes, tumbling down her tan cheeks in rivers. Draco was appalled with the woman's outburst. Why was she so guilty? Her son was fine! She couldn't change the past, so why bother obsessing over it?

"Sorry," Granger wiped her hand across her cheeks, banishing the tears from her face, "I'll get back to the story,"

Draco gave her a calculating look, "Do you want something to drink?"

"You already asked that," Hermione's eyes flickered to the fridge, a thirsty look overtaking her eyes, "But…"

Standing immediately, Draco walked across the cool kitchen floor. Snatching a tall glass from a wooden cabinet, he turned to the sink, filling it with cold water. He placed it in front of a suspicious Granger. The blonde sat back down, watching as she eyed the glass like it might jump up and bite her.

"For the love of God, Granger, it's not going to kill you," He snapped. She nodded and sipped it before settling back into her seat.

"Well, we ended up at Malfoy Manor," Horrification swept over Draco, They had taken her, and her _son _there? As a child, he had especially hated the dark rooms and stiff furniture, though he despised it more when Voldemort started residing there. It was, on any account, no place for children.

"They killed Neville," She said it as though she didn't know him, but Draco saw the pool of tears forming again behind her eyes again. War had broken everyone involved but, as it seemed, Hermione Granger most of all, "They kept Ginny and I for… _other _purposes…"

Draco had an odd feeling that he knew what exactly those _other _purposes were.

"They threatened me in so many different ways," Granger's voice had fallen to a hushed whisper. Draco didn't know if it was to prevent her son in the next room from hearing or if she couldn't even talk about it properly, "They eventually discovered the only thing that could break me," Her voice cracked on the next line, "My son. They threatened to kill him, to torture him, to cut his limbs from his body, to take a knife and—"

"Granger!" The blonde cut in angrily, a knot forming in his stomach at what she had just said, "Please, don't, I don't need to know the—"

"But I have to!" The wild-eyed witch cried, leaning forward. She slammed her hands on the wooden table, palms down. The sound echoed off the walls, "I have to because I'll never get through it otherwise!" Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she relaxed, "And I did the one thing I knew would save him, would save _us_," She began to rub her left forearm gently. Meeting an appalled Draco Malfoy's eyes she stated simply, "I sold myself to Voldemort,"

There was a moment of silence after her revelation. Draco was lost in thought. _She did it to save her son, such a Gryffindor thing to do. She just has to be so damn selfless all the time…_

"Ginny died too," Tears leaked from her big brown eyes once more, they caught on her lower lashes. Beneath the fluorescents, the drops of dew looked beautiful.

_Wait… what?_

"It was the night before I was supposed to become a Death Eater. I told her to do the same, to save her life. She told me she would. But… but when it came down to it, after my arm was burning like someone had stuck a candle to it, after my son was safe and I thought we were going to be safe from the torture, you know what she did? She looked into Voldemort's squinted red eyes and she said, 'You killed Harry Potter, the man I love. Burn in hell'. And she was Avada-ed on the spot… by your _father,_" Throughout her monologue, Granger's head had been downcast, but when she said the last sentence, she gazed up at Draco. Blood rushed to his face; he could feel it.

"He's not my father," Draco growled, his upper lip curled in disgust, "I loathe him with every fiber of my being. I hope he rots in Askaban and, even then, doesn't get closure. I hope he goes straight to hell,"

A small smile graced the lips of the watery blonde across from him.

"There's the Draco I know and love," She joked, sniffling into her glass of water as she drank. Draco didn't return it, in fact, he frowned. Where had that come from? He had never expressed the hateful feelings he had been carrying around before.

"Well," The brunette moved forward, her speech hasty, as though she wanted to gloss over the gritty details, "A few years passed. I became rather good at blocking my thoughts from Voldemort, while at the same time leading him to believe that I was a faithful servant. I had to… to _kill _people. Innocent people who had no idea that wizards even existed. He claimed that it was the only way that I would prove to him how loyal I was; I was killing my 'own kind'. I… I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn't look in the mirror. But I had a plan you see, I had a bloody plan.

"I did it during a meeting. They still didn't trust me with a wand, even after four years, so I waited. I attacked a newbie, that's what we called the new recruits, and stole his wand. Neville, Ginny and I had gotten rid of the last Horcrux ages ago. Then, I went to the dining room, made sure Ronnie was nearby for a fast escape, waited for the rest of the Death Eaters to clear out and…"

"You killed Voldemort," Draco breathed, completing her sentence. Granger merely nodded, pursing her lips in thought.

"I decided to come to America. I lived in D.C. for a while but it was too much commotion. So a few weeks ago I left. I thought that my mum had some family out here, but I wasn't sure," Sighing, the emotionally exhausted woman finished off her water, "That's it, really,"

"You're not that annoying book worm that used to parade about Hogwarts, are you?" Draco wasn't sure why he asked, but the words slipped out without thought.

"No," Hermione said distantly, "I suppose not,"

And then she stood, gathered her son, and they were at the door. Granger had promised a magical paternity test that would be in the form of a potion. Draco had accepted, but it was all a blur. He was too busy thinking about the petite woman standing in front of him. She had killed Voldemort, she had become a Death Eater to save her son, her innocence had been stolen from her by a cowardly Death Eater spawn at age seventeen. And as he closed the door, Draco Malfoy could only think of one thing.

If she, a mudblood and a single mother, could do all that…

Where did that leave him?


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N- Hello lovelies! Thanks so much to the favs/follows/reviews! I appreciate it so much! _

_So this is the next chapter (obviously). I must say that it is a bit shorter that I thought it would be but once I get this out of the way we can move along in the plot. Please leave me a review if you think I should do some Hermione POV. I tried it a bit at the beginning of this chapter. Enjoy! _

_Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, then Fred would be a very much alive in the Epilogue._

Chapter Three

Hermione Granger awoke in a cold sweat.

_What had the dream been about? _She couldn't remember. _Was it Ginny who died or Neville? Harry? Ron? Winky, Dobby, Fred, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin, Tonks, Sirius? Orion? _

Gasping for breath as though she was drowning, Hermione looked down, a weak smile of relief gracing her features when she saw his white-blonde hair peeking out from beneath the covers. She ran her hands through it gently before cradling his small body close. Despite the way he'd come into being, Orion was her world. Hermione didn't think that it was possible to love someone so much. All that she wanted was for him to be safe and happy.

His pale eyelashes fluttered and Hermione found twin grey eyes gazing up at her.

"Mommy?" Orion's quiet tone cut through the darkness of the hotel room. The heater rattled to a stop, and a glove of husky silence fell over Hermione's ears.

"Yes sweetie?" She replied, squeezing his shoulders. He snuggled against her body.

"When are the bad men coming for us?" He sounded small, broken and scared. Hermione pulled the sheets up around his shoulders, wanting to make him feel secure.

"Never honey," She wasn't quite sure of that was the truth; did the Death Eaters want to track her down? She didn't think that they would find her, but she couldn't be too certain…

Orion smiled up at her before his lids dropped. Hermione held his tiny body to hers softly. No one would take him from her, she would be sure of it.

The rest of the night was peaceful, and for the first time in years, the brunette was free of nightmares.

"Evan?" Mr. Linney knocked on the door with a sharp rap. Draco looked up from the legal papers on his desk. He blinked, clearing his mind.

"Yes, Mr. Linney?" Draco wanted to keep it brief; it was hard to focus on paperwork when thoughts of the previous night clouded his brain. What the blonde really needed was a hard brandy and a good nap. Thank Merlin himself that it was Friday.

"I have your new intern," Draco nodded, glancing at the clock. It was only nine thirty. _Damn it all._

The sound of high heels clicking on tiles drew Draco out of his wistful thinking. Standing and straightening his tie, the former Death Eater waited for his new toy- _er, Intern- _to come into his office. Draco found himself staring down at the high, silken green heels she was wearing. They were not any old shade of green, not of the lime or forest variety, but a medium-shade green that was beautifully evil. Next there was the long expanse of tan legs that were cut short by a tight black skirt and a silver blouse with the top few buttons undone. She smirked at him before flipping strand of long, chesnut-brown hair from her shoulder. She stared at him with curious blue eyes.

"Hello," She took several steps forward, holding out a perfectly manicured hand. Draco loved the crispness of her, the clear organization she had over her looks. Draco wanted to place a rather sensual kiss on her hand but as his boss was in the room it would've been highly inappropriate, "I'm Sasha. Sasha Bradely,"

Draco removed his hand from hers, turning to face Mr. Linney, "Evan McDermitt… Did you show her around the office?"

Smiling knowingly, Mr. Linney responded casually, "No. She's your intern, I figured it would be a good time to get to know one another,"

The blonde nodded, his eyes flickering back to Sasha. She was fluttering her thick black eyelashes at him innocently. He smirked at her playfulness. She was going to be so glad she'd worn green later…

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Sasha, you have your resume, correct?" Sasha nodded, "Evan, I need that paperwork on my desk by five," Draco nodded when his boss made a hand motion towards the small stack of papers he had nearly abandon. With a mock salute towards Mr. Linney, the dark skinned man was gone. Draco knew that he wouldn't get in trouble for saluting; it was a running joke between the two of them.

_Draco was gathering his notebook up after a meeting, his mind on other things. Every time the door would open, his heart would jump into his throat. At night, the wards around his house went up, and they would fry anyone with ill intentions who dared to walk on his property. War had made him paranoid and upon occasion, the Malfoy would have to sleep with the lights on. His theory was that different people deal with losing people in a variety of ways; Draco didn't handle losing at all._

_"Evan," Gods, would he ever get used to that name? Draco looked up, staring into the concerned face of his boss, Mr. Linney, "Evan, are you ok?" Draco's viewpoint shifted down, and he began to fiddle with the papers in the folder. _

_"Yeah… I suppose…" _

_Mr. Linney remained silent for a moment before asking, "Evan… were you in battle? You know, in a war?"_

_Draco couldn't breathe. His boss knew, his BOSS was after him! Had Mr. Linney been spying for Voldemort, or worse, his father? Before he could bolt out the door and apperate away, however, Mr. Linney was talking again._

_"You act like my older brother is all. Jimmy was in a war," Draco was zoning out already; he didn't care about this man's brother, "He had some of the same 'ticks' that you have; paranoia, flinching whenever you pass someone you don't know, the tender way you sit, as though your scars still hurt. You're always looking over your shoulder. That sort of thing," _

_Draco sighed softly. As much as he hated to admit it, Mr. Linney had hit the nail on the head; Draco had done all of those things. He was never quite sure if the man in for a meeting had a wand in his pocket or if the next person to walk into the room might be a Death Eater to come and kill him. It was a terrifying feeling that teenagers often experience after seeing a horror film; they would pull up the covers of their bed and hide, freezing with terror when there was a creak downstairs. _

_Basically, Draco hadn't been getting a lot of sleep._

_"So, Mr. Evan McDermitt… I appreciate all that you've done to support your country. If not America, then Britain," Draco was struck with the sudden urge to salute so he did, and for the first time in months, a real smile broke out on his face. Mr. Linney laughed and exited the conference room, leaving Draco to finish gathering his things so he could leave._

"Ahem," Came a dainty interruption. Draco blinked to be rid himself of the memory, opting to look down at the tan face of his intern, "You looked distracted,"

"Sorry," The blonde didn't feel like making up an excuse for his strange behavior all of a sudden, "So, you want to go?"

Sasha nodded, smiling at him in a rather flirty manner. He led her out of his office and into the main lobby, where several people were waiting in the stiff blue chairs lined next to the door. "This is, of course, the main lobby," Sasha nodded rigorously, her hair swishing to and fro.

They continued their walk down the long hallway. Each office had a name plate on the door, depicting who resided there. The conference rooms had large round tables in their centers with whiteboards that were notoriously clean unless in use. There was the copy room, of course, with its endless supply of blank white paper. Draco was rounding back to his office when Sasha froze mid-step, a small frown settling onto her face.

"You have a tattoo?" Shit. Draco looked at his arm, where his sleeve had slid up slightly from reaching up to show her where her company box was in the mail room. He grimaced and pulled the edge of the blue sleeve down, shaking his head.

"It's a long story," He stated flatly. His interest in the brunette had tampered off all of a sudden, but his attention was soon regained when she bent over to pick up a few paperclips she dropped.

_Merlin, look at those legs. They're so long and tan… and that thing that her skirt is covering, what is it called, I can't quite remember… it starts with an 'a'… OH hey that's right it's her as-_

"Checking me out are we?" Sasha asked playfully, standing up so suddenly that Draco's eyes practically flew to her face, "It's rather naughty, the whole boss and worker relationship," She stepped closer to him, "Do you think so, Mr. McDermitt,"

For the first time in years, Draco wanted to tell someone flat out that 'Evan McDermitt' was not his real name. He wanted someone to call him Draco, if only once.

"We-ell…" Was he honestly going to just blurt it out, just like that? _Yes, hello, I'm Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and killer. Oh, did I mention that I had to rape someone too? Yeah, and I'm also a wizard… and I possibly have a son who I hadn't met until yesterday… nice to meet you, Sasha!_

Like that would go over well.

"Because I find it rather," Sasha's lips were right next to Draco's ear, her pink lips puckering and pouting, "Enticing,"

She drew the word out long enough that the blonde thought he might turn to dust if she went on for a moment longer.

Suddenly, a phone began to ring. Draco looked at the contraption on his desk for a minute (with a certain amount of hatred in his eye; this damned muggle contraption was cock blocking him!) before moving away from his intern and picking it up. On the other side was a calm female voice that Draco recognized instantly.

"Good morning, Malfoy," Granger's tone was that of someone suffering from extreme apathy.

"Morning," Draco replied gruffly, his eyes shifting back to an impatient Sasha. She was tapping a foot against his carpet which reminded him of his mother, who would often do the same thing.

"I've been brewing the paternity potion all day. All I need is one of your hairs," Granger responded matter-of-factly. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He would've looked foolish had he anyways; she couldn't even see him.

"Alright, just come over tonight and we could figure it out, all right?"

"Does six sound like a good time?"

"Yeah… Draco fiddled with the curled phone cord, "I get off at five thirty,"

He could almost hear Granger smiling, "See you then, Evan,"

"See you then… Julia,"

He hung up quickly, turning back to Sasha. She was staring at him with a look of great interest on her face, "Is that your girlfriend?" She questioned, a leer-like smile on her face.

Had Draco been drinking water it would've been sprayed all over the place, "What, no! She's an old… family friend. Just got into town, actually, and we are meeting for dinner. Now, let's get you a chair so we can review some of the realtor's basics, shall we?"

Draco was immensely grateful when she didn't ask anything else and did just as he asked. Looking at the clock again, the blonde wanted to scream and rip his hair out.

_Ten thirty. _

_Damn it all._

"Give me one of your hairs," Granger demanded of Draco, holding her palm out for him to put the strand in. On the kitchen counter was a cauldron that looked like it had seen better days and several half-empty vials. The frothing potion in the cauldron was beginning to steam.

Sighing, Draco plucked a single pale hair from the crown of his head, "Here," Handing it to her remorsefully, he asked, "So… how does this work exactly?"

"Well," Hermione told him, "I put my hair in, wait for thirty seconds, and then I put your hair in. I wait for thirty more seconds and stir clockwise for a minute. I then will drop Orion's hair in and if the potion turns green…"

Draco took that as the 'Congrats you're a Dad' color.

"So, let's get started," Draco's voice sounded nervous in his own ears.

Draco turned to look at the small boy playing on his kitchen floor. His wavy blonde hair fell into his eyes, and his wide grey eyes never stayed in one place for very long. Orion was pushing around the little red matchbox car, and its tiny plastic wheels scraped against the white tiles. Draco moved so he could sit next to him, but Orion didn't even acknowledge his presence. Instead he kept up the constant car moving, to which Draco could only assume he was acting out an awesome car chase in his mind.

Then, slowly, Orion's gaze moved from the toy he was playing with to Draco, who felt uncomfortable under the small boy's scrutinizing look. Draco did note, however, that the boy's eyes had turned a stormy grey, an indicator that he was focusing intently on the older of the two.

"Hello," Orion's voice was so soft that Draco was wondering if he'd heard it at all.

"Er… Hullo," Draco replied evenly, "How're you?" Draco, having never had to deal with children, wasn't quite sure how this conversation was going to go.

"You're old," His voice was flat, with a matter-of-fact tone that children pick up when they state something that they believe to be the truth, "Mummy says that you're no older than her but I don't bel-bel-_believe _her,"

For a child raised with Death Eaters, Orion certainly had a magnificent grasp on his language skills.

"Well, your mom is actually older than me by several months," A look that could only be described as 'really?' passed over Orion's face, "So technically she's the old one,"

Draco watched as Orion smiled and then, his pink little cheeks puffing out slightly, he giggled childishly. His square, white teeth were revealed when he opened his mouth and small dimples formed in the corners of his lips. And for a moment, the world seemed to have stopped moving. This child, as Draco would describe it later, obviously had the Malfoy charm.

"Malfoy,"

Draco was torn away from his moment, and he stood stiffly. "Yes, Granger,"

Hermione stood in front of the cauldron, her face blank of emotion. Draco checked to see if Orion was watching them but he was back to playing with his car. The brunette beckoned for him to come over and he did, peering into the seemingly bottomless cauldron.

Inside, the potion lied completely still, not churning or bubbling in the slightest. But that was not what caught Draco's attention. No, it was the vibrant neon green color the previously grey potion had taken on.

"Congratulations, Malfoy," Came Granger's smug voice from behind him, "Welcome to fatherhood,"


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N- Hello again! Sorry I didn't update sooner, real life is a bitch sometimes. So here's the next chapter. Thanks to those who reviewed/faved/followed. I'd really appreciate a couple reviews. Not that I'm asking or anything... *whistles nonchalantly*_

_Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, a certain blonde would be hooked up with a certain brunette... ;) _

Chapter Four

There was the faint sound of the telephone ringing when Draco awoke the next morning. He shot up out of bed, his hand searching for the muggle device on his nightstand. It was there, he knew it. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes his hand closed around the slick plastic, turning it on so he could talk.

"Hello?" Draco asked, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Dammit all, why weren't there more hours in the night?

"Hello, Mr. McDermitt," Mr. Linney was on the other side, his tone too chipper for the early morning light, "How are you?"

"Er… Fine?" The blonde propped his head up on a stack of pillows, not wanting to get out of bed, "How're you?"

There was the faint sound of laughter coming from the telephone in Draco's hand. It was not natural for someone to be that happy, "Good, good. Listen, my son is getting married next Tuesday and I forgot to tell you yesterday that I will be closing the office until Thursday, in which normal working hours will resume,"

Sighing in relief, the blonde settled back into his sheets, "Ah, well, tell him congratulations for me, yeah?"

Mr. Linney promised he would and signed off. Draco pressed the 'end' button, his eyelids growing heavy. He was going to fall back asleep, and he didn't have a care in the world because it was Saturday…

_It was Saturday._

"Shit!" He cried, throwing the covers back sharply, "Shit shit shit shit shit shit shiiiit,"

Bounding across the room he reached the oak dresser, yanking open drawers. Locating socks, jeans, a white-cotton t-shirt, and his leather wristwatch, Draco used the bathroom, got dressed, and brushed his teeth in record speed. He looked at the digital clock on the bathroom counter; it was nearly nine o'clock. He was going to be late!

Draco raced down the stairs as he attempted to put on his shoes while yanking his car keys out of the small bowl on the small table by the door. He didn't have time for breakfast; there simply wasn't enough time.

Starting up the car, Draco cursed again, this time more colorfully. All of these damned muggle contraptions! And, sod it all, there were so many buttons! Why did it need so many buttons?

Roaring down the dusty road, the blonde was immensely grateful when he reached the familiar crossroads. Making a sharp left, he pressed his foot against the pedal again and the pickup lurched forwards before settling back. It was not a pleasant feeling, but Draco had reached his destination. He slammed on the brakes and pulled the key out of the ignition. There were other cars in the long, sloping driveway. The old sign that was in serious need of a repaint hung off the front of the wrap-around front porch. It was large enough, however, that any able-sighted person could've read; 'Madam Quincie's Boarding House'. Draco smiled at the Victorian mixed with American back-roads style of the building in front of him. There was the peaked roof but there were also robin's-egg-blue shutters next to the windows. There was the third-story window peak, but the swing on the porch contradicted it.

Shaking himself out of it, Draco raced up the front lawn, rapping loudly on the door. There was a moment of complete and utter silence, no movement at all. And then, however, the door was flung open from the inside. But there was no one there. So where the bloody hell…?

Draco's eyes shifted down to meet a rather exuberant girl with long black hair staring up at him. She blinked her eyes before smiling widely and calling behind her, "Someone's here!" With a childish giggle she turned and scampered away.

"Adeline, I have told you before that you shouldn't yell- oh. Hello Evan,"

Draco smirked and grabbed the older woman's wrinkly hand, pressing a friendly kiss to it, "Madam Quincie, lovely as always,"

Madam Quincie blushed and playfully smacked his arm away, "Always the flirt, Evan, always the flirt… But you're late!"

"Sorry ma'am, my alarm didn't ring," Draco adapted a 'Texas Tone' (as Mr. Linney liked to describe it) and pretended to tip a nonexistent hat, "It won't happen again,"

"Right, well, I need you to paint the sign,"

Finally. The paint had been peeling for years.

"Do you have any specific colors...?"

"No," Madam Quincie sighed, "Though there should be some paint in the shed. I do believe the blue will do nicely for the words, as for the rest… I don't particularly care,"

Draco nodded and started to walk away, his mind set on his job.

"Evan?" Draco turned to look at the elder woman leaning against the doorframe, her jeans worn but a fresh smile on her face.

"Yes?"

Holding a silver object out in front of her, Madam Quincie laughed, "You'll need the key,"

"Oh," The blonde replied, embarrassed, "Right,"

X

Draco rubbed his paint smeared arm against his brow, not caring if the blue substance got in his hair. He was sweaty and gross, and the sign he was supposed to paint was barely half done.

_I must be quite a sight, _Draco mused, _out here painting away at this old bat's sign while the rest of the world moves ahead in time, without me. Oh dammit Draco, stop getting psychological. _

Chuckling lightly, he was almost startled off the ladder he was standing on when Madam Quincie came out of the house, car keys in hand.

"I'm just going to run out, Evan dear. There's a new boarder and I need to pick her up from the hotel. If you need anything ask Jasmine," Evan nodded in affirmation before resuming his work. Jasmine was Madam Quincie's daughter and she visited every weekend to catch up with those living in the house. She was not a conversationalist in the slightest but she had a 'good heart', as her mother had once described. If nothing else, she did seem to care for the people that resided in her childhood home.

Draco moved the paint brush up and down the carved letters before dipping it into the thick blue paint and repeating the motion. He was almost done; there was just the second coat of the last 'E' and then he could do the sealant. He had repainted the background an off-white and was going to do the outline a rosy pink he had discovered in the shed. Draco began to hum softly, reaching for the sealant. He would be done in about an hour, if all went well. Then he would receive a tall glass of lemonade and a peanut butter sandwich before Madam Quincie would give him a new task. He didn't mind, though. She was a nice old lady, although definitely one hundred percent American. She even kept fireworks in her shed!

The blonde was just finishing up his second coat of sealant when the popping sound of Madam Quincie's car was heard. Draco paused his hand motions as the sound of car doors slamming ricocheted off Draco's ears. He took a deep breath and turned around, eager to see the new arrival. His eyes almost fell out of his head in shock.

Standing there, with a small suitcase in one hand and the hand of Orion in another, was Hermione Freaking Granger.

"Well shit," The blonde cursed before retrieving the bucket of pale pink paint. He cracked the lid open and cringed away from the strong fumes. Draco tried his best to ignore her but couldn't help his eyes from shifting back, though her attention was on her son. She hadn't even noticed him yet.

"Yes, well, this is my house. You'll be taking the top room, the one in the attic, I hope you don't mind. There is air conditioning, though the heating is sketchy. I will see if I can get Evan here to fix it by winter for me,"

At the sound of his 'name' Draco's hand, which had been holding the brush to stir the thick paint, froze. With the brush still in his grasp he stood, turning to look at a very confused brunette and a rather gleeful Orion.

"Hullo, I don't believe we've met," Draco said evenly, crossing the lawn to meet her. Granger's eyebrows shot up before realization settled on her features. Madam Quincie didn't need to know that Draco was the father of her child or that they knew each other at all.

"Julia Smith," Granger responded in a similar tone; friendly but not overly so, "And my son, Ronnie,"

_Again with that nickname. She could at least refer to him as 'Ron', as much as I hate Weasley. Ronnie sounds ridiculous._

"Nice to meet you, _Julia,"_

The witch gave him a look as if to say 'really?' "Nice to meet you too, _Evan,_"

Draco smiled at a beaming Orion, "Hey there, Ronnie,"

"Hi!" The small child exclaimed, throwing his arms around his father's legs.

Madam Quincie laughed as Granger tried desperately to remove the boy from Draco, "It's always fun to see such a friendly child,"

_Yes. What happened to the quiet boy who barely talked? _Draco mused.

"Well, it's good to know that you're staying here. I used to live here, when I first came to town. I didn't have much money so I paid off my debt to Madam Quince in favors. Much to my dismay, I've come to enjoy the old hag's company," Draco winked at the older woman over Granger's shoulder, "Or maybe it's just the food,"

"You're too charming for your own good, you know that?" Madam Quincie joked lightly, locking the car with a tap of her finger on the key fob, "Now hurry up while I show our new guest around, and then we'll see about lunch,"

"Yes ma'am," Draco replied, standing up straight with his hands at his sides, splattering paint on his left leg and all over the grass. The action caused a very gleeful Orion to burst into laughter. At that, even Granger's indifferent expression could not remain stiff.

X

"Hey, it's Evan!" Came the faint call of a very friendly Mr. Xaing. Draco smiled at the chorus of 'Hi Evan' that went around the long dining table that extended through the main room and into the kitchen beyond. The blonde took a seat at the corner end of the table, smiling as Mr. Xaing passed him a jug of homemade lemonade.

_So I lied to myself about socializing. This is actually quite amusing. Perhaps that is my true reason for always coming back here to help them out. It's the least I can do, after all. _

Grinning now, Draco dove into his sandwich that had been provided. It had the perfect proportions of peanut butter on it and, to put it frankly, was freaking beautiful piece of food.

_Oh Merlin, the paint fumes have got to me… Hey look, there's a fly!_

Definitely the paint fumes then.

No, Draco was simply in a fantastic mood. Despite the fact that Granger was here, despite the fact that Orion was his son, despite the fact that his resolve against not socializing always fell to the ground as soon as he entered the premises of this house. Madam Quincie was awesome to joke around with, Mr. Xaing was friendly, and Jasmine was always an interesting person to discuss the weather. They were not his friends per se, but they were fun enough to talk to.

"So I heard you met Ms. Smith, the new boarder," Mr. Xaing mentioned as Draco took another furious bite of his sandwich. He nearly choked as it went down, opting to gulp down some lemonade to clear his esophagus.

"Right," He replied, using the paper napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth off, "Seems nice enough,"

"And her son is so sweet, even if he is rather quiet," The graying man next to him mentioned. What was his name? Mr. Davis? Mr. Davison? Mr. Davie?

"Yes, a real handsome lad indeed," Mr. Xaing added, taking an idle sip from his glass, "He's quite the little gentleman,"

A strong sense of pride flared up from deep inside the blonde. Obviously his son had inherited all the right genes from his side of the family.

"And she sure is pretty," Mr. What's-His-Name mentioned casually. Draco's eyes immediately flickered to Granger, who was sitting down the table near the entrance to the kitchen. Her long brown hair was still just as curly as ever, though it was tamer in the cool house. She was wearing a light pink long sleeved shirt that went well with her skin tone… _Yes,_ Draco mused, _she is pretty… if mudbloods were my thing, that is._

_Hypocrite, _a smaller voice whispered, _you're hanging out with muggles right now! _

"Yeah, I suppose," Draco focused back in on the two men he was speaking to, "I don't particularly like her hair, though,"

Mr. Xaing laughed, his dark eyes crinkling at the edges, "Well, you certainly are specific, aren't you?"

Draco scoffed, "Eh, I'm just not into girls with kids,"

_Even though that kid is yours…_

Oh shut up!

"Er, Evan?" Mr. What's-His-Name asked tentatively, "Are you alright?"

Realizing that he'd shouted what he'd been thinking about out loud, Draco felt heat rushing right to his face. Everyone at the table had fallen silent, except for several of the younger children, who were chatting away in their own language.

"Uh… Sorry. I'll just…" Pushing back from the table he stood, and proceeded to run out of the house. The door slammed with a certain finality, though that was ridiculous. He didn't _want_ to run, he just _did_. Though that seemed to be his thing, running.

"Malfoy," That was the sound of a female voice, most definitely. The only one who knew him as Malfoy was…

"Granger," He responded curtly as they stood on the porch, facing the large lawn and the trees beyond, "What are you going out here?"

"Oh, you know, being an insufferable know-it-all," She joked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Draco watched the movement carefully, calculating the way her tan hand fluttered up but fell quickly back down.

"Granger, why are you here?"

The question shocked her; Granger's eyes got wide and her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, as though she was focusing intently on her answer.

"I don't know, honestly. I mean, what are we all doing here? We were all born for a reason, and whether or not we discover what that reason is remains entirely up to us. The real question is, why do we die? When we are freed from this life, there is no going back. But where do we GO after death? Is there an afterlife?"

Draco stared at her, perplexed, "I'm sorry, but what the hell are you going off on, Granger?"

Brown eyes sparkling with mirth, Hermione allowed a small smile to worm its way onto her face, "Gotcha, Malfoy,"

The blonde raised an eyebrow but he was fighting to keep a grin off his own features, "Whatever, mudblood," He dismissed. She was just _Granger_.

Granger sighed, "I thought that we could've put that behind us. I suppsose that I was wrong," Draco crossed his arms as she stalked back into the house. The wizard was glad that she had left him to peace and quiet, but at the same time, the air had gotten reasonably colder in her absence.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N- New Chapter (obviously). This one is quite short, but it gives some insight to Draco's character. I know it is quite short but I will update another (longer, Dramione interaction-filled) chapter by Saturday._

_Thanks so much to those who reviewed/faved/followed! I really appreciate it. _

_Disclaimer- If I owned Harry Potter (which I do NOT), then Quirrel and Voldemort would've had some interesting conversations about the meaning of life while good ol' Voldie was chilling on the back of Quirrel's head. _

Chapter Five

_"Save us, Draco… Save us…"_

_Draco spun around, searching for the source of the voice. It was coming from his left… no his right… damn, why was there so much mist? He could hardly see two feet in front of him!_

_"Draco darling, save us…" That was his mother's voice. _

_"Mother… Mother!" Draco shouted, struggling through the fog. There was a rather loud cackle that sounded like his Aunt Bellatrix, followed by a feminine scream._

_"Mum! Mummy!" Draco didn't care what he was saying; he had to find his mother and save her. She was in danger._

_"Draco," Whipping to his left, the blonde saw his friends from Hogwarts; Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Daphne staring at him. Tear tracks glinted against their cheeks, an odd sight indeed._

_"We needed you Draco," Pansy's voice was softer than he'd ever heard it, "We needed you,"_

_"But you were a coward!" Blaise shouted, his hands clenched into fists, "You ran away because you were a cheating, lying coward,"_

_"Draco," He turned at the sound of his name, his friends dissipating into the mist. Standing in front of him was his father, a furious look on his face. In his hand rested the familiar silver-tipped cane._

_"Come here,"_

_Almost as if he had no will of his own, Draco stepped forward, only to be struck in the face with the metal head of the cane. He hissed and put a hand to his throbbing cheek. _

_"Father, please—"_

_"Kiss my feet,"_

_"No, father, I am not your servant, I am not—,"_

_Grabbing his head and pushing it down, Lucius replied harshly, "Kiss my feet boy!"_

_Draco did, studying the dragonhide shoes._

_"You disgust me," Came a much higher and womanly voice. Draco looked up and reeled back when he found a sneering Hermione Granger giving him a cold look. Draco rolled across the floor, horrified. Hermione bent down, muttering cruel things to him._

_"You took my innocence and gave me a child. I can never forgive you, you cowardly Death Eater scum. I hope you burn in hell because you deserve to rot, you deserve to rot…"_

_There was the faint scream of a child, and Draco looked up. Standing in front of him was Orion, his face bloodied and his body broken. Bones protruded from his pale skin at odd angles. The corners of his mouth had been cut down in a permanent grimace. The sight of the child looking so disfigured, so vulnerable, made dream-Draco close his eyes in fear._

_When he opened them, the pasty-white face of Voldemort was right in front of his, his red eyes glinting with an animalistic lust. A lust for blood, for violence, for the death of all things good. _

_"Boo," His voice whispered, eerily low. His non-existent lips twitched into a smile that could rival the devil's. _

"No!" The wizard startled awake, trying to soothe his frantic heart. His eyes flickered around the dusky room, checking to be sure that no demons were hiding in the shadows. Wiping the sweat from his brow he laid back against his pillow, shaking with fear.

Those damn nightmares were going to be the death of him.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N- Thanks so much to those who reviewed/faved/followed! It's great to hear from readers! This week has been extra busy so I'm sorry that I didn't reply to the reviews. It felt so good to come home today, sit on the couch and just relax. _

_Disclaimer- I do NOT own Harry Potter, but if I did I'd probably write in the line 'What the HELL is a Hufflepuff?' _

Chapter Six

The gentle wind blew against Hermione's face as she held Orion's hand. It was a warm Sunday afternoon, and she had been helping Jasmine with the flower beds all throughout the morning. They had eaten before deciding to relax. Hermione had opted to read her son some books from the living room, much to Jasmine's delight. She too was an avid reader, enjoying a wide variety of stories.

"'Tinker Bell," he called softly, after making sure that the children were asleep, "Tink, where are you?" She was in a jug for the moment, and liking it extremely; she had never been in a jug before,'" Hermione read off the page, squeezing her son's hand.

"Oh no!" Orion said with child-like distain, "Will she be able to get out?"

"Yes," Hermione teased, ruffling his hair, "I'm sure she will, sweetheart,"

Jasmine smiled at them from where she was perched on the porch steps. She ran a hand through her dark brown hair and her attention went back to the book in her hands. Hermione did the same, picking up where she'd left off.

"Oh, do come out of—"

Her words, however, were interrupted by Madam Quincie, who had opened the front door with a bang.

Orion's hands flew to his ears, covering them completely. Before she could assure him that he was ok, the lady of the house raced towards them, a cordless phone in her hand.

"Julia... Julia! There's someone on the phone for you,"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. No one knew her, at least from around here, so how in the world…?

"It's Evan, dear," Madam Quincie clarified. Hermione felt a stone of dread settle at the bottom of her stomach but she took the outstretched phone none the less.

"Hullo?" She asked tentatively.

There was a short pause, followed by, "Hullo there, Granger,"

"Nice to hear from you, McDermitt," She couldn't just blurt out 'Malfoy' in front of Jasmine, now could she?

Malfoy snorted, "Good mood you're in, eh?"

Hermione breathed a small puff of impatience, "What do you want?"

"We-ell," Suddenly, he sounded nervous. _But that's preposterous, because Malfoys do NOT get nervous. _"I was wondering if I could come and see Orion tomorrow."

That was not what she had expected him to say, "Wait… What?"

"You heard me, Granger," Draco was irritated, and obviously so. She looked back at Orion, who was waiting patiently for her to continue, his molten eyes trained on hers, "I want to see my son,"

"You don't HAVE to see him, you know,"

"I know Granger. I-I—"

Hermione tapped a sneaker-clad foot against the wooden boards that made up the porch floor, "Out with it,"

"I want to,"

_Imagine that. He wants to actually spend time with his half-blood heir._

"Sure, I guess. Just come by at three tomorrow, if that works,"

Draco signed off without another witty comment. Hermione clicked the 'end' button, setting the phone down on the ground next to the rocking chair.

"Ooh, got a date with the mysterious Evan McDermitt, have we?" Jasmine teased, looking up from her book, expectant.

"No," _A date with Malfoy. As if._ "Why is he so… mysterious?"

Jasmine cracked a smile. She should do that more often, Hermione thought, she looks prettier.

"He never socializes, except for business and with the boarders. He keeps to himself mostly, though he does shop at the bookstore sometimes. Every once and a while he leaves town, but he never goes away overnight. He rarely takes off work, he doesn't enjoy T.V., and he always wears long sleeves in public. The icing on the cake of mysteriousness, however, is that he never dates. Occasionally he'll be seen walking home with a girl, but he never does it more than once with the same person and he most certainly never goes out with them. He's odd," Jasmine fidgeted, "But he's always nice to us,"

_Malfoy a recluse, _the brunette pondered idly, _I never would've guessed._

"Odd indeed. No, no, he just wanted to talk about some job options he might have for me," _What a pitiful lie, Hermione. _

Jasmine gave her a pointed look, but did not breech the subject again.

X

Draco cut the engine of the car, pushing his door open swiftly. He hopped out, his eyes drawn immediately to Orion, who was playing with several toy cars on the grass. His blonde hair fell into his eyes, blocking them from view. Draco could hear the boy making crashing noises and high-pitched tire squeals with his mouth. Instinctively, he stepped forward.

"Rwwwwr! And Mr. Red takes the lead because Greenie is a slowpoke! CSSSSSHHHHH! And Mr. Red wins!" Draco felt a smile tugging at his lips. He stepped forward again, this time so the boy could see him.

"Oh hello!" Draco's son cried excitedly, waving a small hand, "I 'member you! You're Mummy's friend!"

Dropping to his knees, Draco responded, "Yeah, I am. Whatcha' playing there?"

With a solemn look, Orion stated, "Racing cars,"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" The child exclaimed, grinning wildly. Draco felt a tug at his heart. _Dammit, stop acting so loveable, Orion! _

"Well, could I play?" He inquired, blinking innocently. Orion nodded, handing him the battered green matchbox car.

"Sure but you hafta' be Greenie, 'cuz Mr. Red always wins and I'm always Mr. Red,"

Draco smirked. Of course Granger had gotten her son red and green cars and had told him that the red one must always win. If the boy ever went to Hogwarts he'd be sorted into Gryffindor without a second thought. A sense of nostalgia ran through him, though just for a second. Perhaps he had hated Hogwarts when he had gone, but now it seemed like a safe haven. It would be interesting to see if his son had more Gryffindor than Slytherin in him if he went.

_I'm getting ahead of myself. _

Shaking his head, Draco took the toy from his son's hand.

"Let's play, shall we?"

So they did. Draco moved the toy car around, pretending to lag or crash whenever Orion dictated. He was not particularly bossy but he knew exactly how he wanted each game to go. He was a surprisingly normal child. Anyone who'd met him would've thought the same. He didn't act like he had been under Voldemort's clutches for nearly all of his life…

"Orion!" Granger called suddenly, pulling Draco out of the magnificent little world he had created with his child. Why did she have to ruin everything?

"Malfoy," She stopped, surprise coloring her voice. Draco looked up, finding an irritated Hermione Granger looking down at him. He stood quickly, brushing the grass from his jeans.

"Lovely afternoon, isn't it Granger?" Extending a hand, he didn't even shudder when she placed her dirt-covered hand on his. She had probably been gardening, or something equally as revolting. She wiped her hand on her worn jeans, banishing the dirt from her skin.

"Well well well, Malfoy, being awful nice today, aren't we?" Had Draco not known better, he could've sworn there was a smirk on her face. However, she turned away so suddenly that he was wondering if she had even looked happy at all.

"Let's sit, shall we?" The witch walked towards the front of the house, leaving Draco to catch up quickly.

"Be back soon, Orion," He called hastily as he followed Granger. He sat in the chair next to her on the porch, watching as his son continued to push the small toys around on the grass.

After several minutes of silence, Granger spoke.

"Why did you want to see him?" She asked, turning her head to face him. He met her speculating gaze before dropping it, looking at his hands instead.

"He's my son, Granger," Draco's response was flat and typical, but it was the truth. Orion was his son, and even though he never wanted Granger to get knocked up, there was no denying that Draco felt something for the little boy. He was sweet, shy, but also very bold, in his own way. He reminded Draco of himself at that age, before the nonsense was beaten out of him and replaced with prejudiced thoughts.

"And you don't care that he's a half-blood? You don't care that I've appeared out of nowhere and just told you out of the blue that you have a son? You don't care that he doesn't know that you're his father?" Her voice rose steadily until she was practically yelling.

"No," Draco said, looking at Orion. He didn't care, "Screw the Malfoy pureblood lineage crap. I'm sure that I've been blown off the family tree already. And, honestly Granger, I'd rather have you find me late than never at all,"

"Why did you—"

Sensing that she was about to dive into questions involving the past, Draco changed the topic.

"He's a good kid, Granger. Very articulate, pretty smart for a kid his age and he's not bad looking either," He winked at Granger mercilessly, making her purse her lips. Orion did look exactly like him, but with slightly tanner skin, something that he'd no doubt gotten from his mother.

"Yeah," The brunette whispered, half to herself. She twisted a piece of her thick hair around her pointer finger, "He is,"

They lapped into silence again, both parents studying their child. It hit Draco then, like ten ton bricks. _They _had created this child, no matter _how_ he had come into being. He was a combination of both of them; getting his father's looks and his mother's brain. Orion was perfect, even though he was quiet and enjoyed muggle cars too much. He was the best thing that had happened to Draco since... Well, ever really.

"Well, there goes the indifference," He muttered. Hermione whipped to the side, staring at him.

"What?" Her tone was sharp, causing a very emotionally confused Draco Malfoy to flinch.

"Nothing, nothing…" The silence resumed.

"When are we going to tell him?" Draco asked after some time.

"Tell him what?" Granger settled back against the white-washed rocking chair, still staring straight ahead.

"That I'm his dad,"

The witch sighed, shifting in her seat, "I don't know, Malfoy. I just don't know,"

They sat there for a while longer, simply looking around at the yard. Draco felt relaxed, and no one from the boarding house came to pester them with questions. Everyone, it seemed, had their own plans to follow through with. Granger even drifted off to sleep several times, her breathing deepening only slightly when she did so. The sun shone down, and there was not a cloud in the sky. Orion played with his cars before he too fell asleep, right in the middle of the grass.

None of them noticed the shadow of a man standing just inside the trees, watching them with a calculating gaze.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N- Another chapter! *cheers* This one is a bit of a filler, but the first part is a hint at Hermione's past and what happened to her. _

_Thanks to everyone who faved/followed/reviewed! It's always good to get feedback from readers. _

_Disclaimer- I do NOT own Harry Potter... sorry I can't come up with anything clever to say. _

Chapter Seven

_Hermione struggled, yanking her arms about without success. The Death Eater's grips were simply too strong. Her wand had been taken from her several hours previous, which was currently in the hands of a rather burly Death Eater. She was not getting it back anytime soon._

_This was not supposed to happen. It was wrong; she was the Brightest Witch of Her Age, the one and only Hermione Granger! She wasn't a prisoner of the Death Eaters! She was too smart to let anything like this happen, or so she thought._

_The door on the far end of the hushed room flew open. In the frame stood a pale man dressed in all black, emphasizing his pointed features and blonde hair._

_"Hermione Granger," He sneered, stepping forward, his eyes flickering to her left, "And… Company,"_

_Ginny whimpered. _

_"Lovely to see you again, though I must admit that your wards aren't what they once were," Lucius Mafloy eyed his watch with a bored expression, "Or perhaps we are simply more motivated," At this he looked up, staring at Hermione as though she had suddenly vomited all over his Persian rug. _

_She hissed, kicking frantically. Someone told her to shut up, and another called her something rather crude. She stilled instantly when she heard Malfoy's voice again._

_"Oh Mudblood. Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood. When will you learn to stop fighting?" He asked in mock sympathy. Then, in a harder tone, "Crucio,"_

_Hermione's world was on fire. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, but she could _feel. _She felt as though someone had taken a hot poker and shoved it into her stomach, twisting it around so she was on fire. She felt like there was a blunt knife shoved into her legs, stabbing over and over. She felt like hands were around her neck, making her go lightheaded with a lack of oxygen and an overabundance of fear. Oh yes, she felt everything._

_Then it was over._

_Hermione was lying on the ground, slumped over with exhaustion and horror. But her lips remained closed; she had not uttered a single scream._

_"Talk," Lucius commanded, approaching her with a menacing look in his eye, "Tell our friends here what you were doing, you foolish girl. Tell them about how you wanted oh so badly to kill the Death Eaters and end the Reign of Terror, stopping the Dark Lord. Tell them of your idiotic plan!"_

_Raising her head, Hermione stated flatly, "No,"_

_The elder Malfoy bent down so he was squatting in front of her, eye-to-eye. _

_"Really, Granger? Is that your decision?" He sneered, but didn't blink once as he carefully watched what she would do next. _

_"Yes. I won't tell Death Eater scum like you anything. You must as well kill me now, because I'm not going to talk,"_

_Lucius stood, staring down at her with haughtiness, "We'll see what you think about that, Mudblood," He drew his wand suddenly, pointing it at her group of friends._

_"You don't scare us!" Neville exclaimed suddenly. Hermione watched another Death Eater from across the room draw his wand and shout 'Avada Kedavra'. A blast of blinding green light flashed in front of her eyes, followed by a loud 'NOOOOO' from Ginny._

_The world swirled into blackness._

"Julia!" A faint voice was becoming much louder, and Hermione rolled over, pulling a wet pillow over her face.

_Wait… why is it wet?_

_"_Mummy, please wake up!" That was Orion. Hermione had to open her eyes because her son needed her.

So she did.

"Sweetheart?" She was momentarily blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Hermione smiled, realizing that her little Ronnie was sitting right next to her. She also realized that several tears had slipped out of her eyes, drowning the pillow, and her face, with salty water.

"Mummy, you were having a bad dream again," Ronnie said, wrapping his arms around her neck. Hermione laughed and pulled him closer, completely unaware of the other person in the room.

Mrs. Anderson, the woman who lived in one of the rooms on the second floor, cleared her throat from where she sat at the end of the bed. The witch startled, taking in the young blonde's soft features. Hermione concluded that she was rather plain, though her clear blue eyes were nice. They had not been properly introduced, as the woman had been out during lunch on Saturday and Sunday.

"Good to see you're up, Ms. Smith," Mrs. Anderson smiled, standing from the edge of the mattress, "You were giving all of us quite a fright, shoutin' and screamin',"

Hermione shook her head apologetically. She talked in her sleep quite often, and thrashed around too, "I am so sorry. I am prone to night terrors," Orion snuggled even closer, his hair tickling her chin.

Mrs. Anderson straightened the towel that was lying haphazardly over the back of a wooden chair, "No… It's quite alright. If you ever need someone to talk, I'm here," She left the room quickly, with nothing but the faint smell of her perfume in her wake.

"Well Ronnie," Hermione said after several relaxing minutes of lying in the fluffy white sheets, "Shall we get dressed then?"

Her son jumped up, racing to the suitcase on top of the white washed dresser. He tried hauling it to the bed on his own, and it almost came crashing down on his head. Hermione used her wand to levitate it over before safely tucking her wand back beneath the pillows.

"Here we go," She said excitedly, unzipping the suitcase with ease, "Now, what would you like to wear?"

"These ones!" Orion gasped, handing his mother a deep green T-shirt and jean shorts. Hermione helped him into his clothes before getting out her own pale yellow, sleeveless dress. It was summer after all. She slipped it on, not caring if the borders saw her scars. They already knew that she had night terrors. She would let them conclude what they wanted. Hermione was past the point of caring.

The brunette skipped downstairs, something that she had not done in a long time, with Ronnie in tow. She retrieved some bacon being given out by Madam Quincie and relished it, handing bits of it to her son as they ate.

"This is-mph-good! What is it-mph-called?" Orion asked as he shoved pieces of bacon into his mouth. Hermione laughed, ruffling his hair with her free hand.

"He doesn't know what bacon is?" An older woman whose name Hermione could not remember said incredulously, sitting across from the boy at the table.

"Not exactly, no," Hermione responded, not unkindly, "Were we lived, bacon was hard to come by,"

It was true; bacon was hard to come by. If you lived in a dark cell for most of your existence and the only food you got was mushy oatmeal, water and upon occasion, soggy soup, that is. Part of the reason why Hermione had chosen the U.S. was because she knew how much of a variety there was in food, culture and people. She wanted her son to experience as much as he could before he began school. She didn't want him to stick out, or to be made fun of.

She'd had enough of that when she was a child, though for different reasons. Being a 'Know-It-All' was quite difficult at times.

"Oh," The elderly woman shook her head, as though she didn't fully believe Hermione's story, "Where in Britain did you live?"

"You know…" Hermione was never a particularly good liar, "Here and there…"

"You mean in the dark place?" Orion asked cheerily, like a child would. However, the woman across from Hermione raised her eyebrows with unasked questions.

"Yes, that," Hermione snatched an orange from a nearby plate and shoved it into Ronnie's hand, "Here! Try an orange sweetheart!" She cried desperately. Thankfully, he complied.

Suddenly, the phone on the wall rang.

"Hello?" Madam Quincie answered, "Oh hello sweetie… Yes, I know but… She's here, yes… Don't flatter me so!" Putting her hand over the receiver, the tall woman turned about and called, "Julia, it's for you!"

Hermione stood to retrieve the phone, moving to an unoccupied corner of the large kitchen. Speaking tentatively, Hermione asked "Hullo?"

"Hello there, Granger,"

_Good God, not again._

"Malf- McDermitt," Hermione said forcefully, catching her mistake just in time, "To what do I do the pleasure this fine morning?"

"Jeez, cut the sarcasm Granger. You're killing me!"

"I wish," She muttered before speaking somewhat louder, "Really though, why are you calling me?"

Malfoy stayed quiet for several seconds before he said softly, "We-ell, Granger, to be honest, I may be trying to help you. I got you a… a job interview,"

Hermione almost fell over.

"A-A… What?

"Don't be daft, I know you heard me the first time," Malfoy huffed, "You've got to pay for the room at the boarding house, and I know you love books, so I got you a job interview at the bookstore. I happen to know the owner personally,"

"And why-oh-why would you do something like that for me?" Hermione snapped, irritated. She could get a job on her own,_ thank you very much._

"Listen here, Granger," The voice on the other end grew quieter, "I don't want my son to ever be without anything. I would usually just give you the money myself, but I know how bleeding stubborn you are and you would never, ever, in a million years take money from me," There was a pause, "So I set up the job interview, Granger, and you'd better go,"

"Why do you suddenly care so much for your…" Glancing about to make sure nobody was paying attention, the witch added hastily, "Son?"

"I am a Malfoy. No matter his blood purity he is still my son and us Malfoy's look out for each other, at least to the best ways we know how,"

Hermione sighed, "I'm still not taking the job interview. I don't need your handouts,"

She could almost see Malfoy smirking, "Don't be such a silly Gryffindor. Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who was dirt-poor and was living in a boarding house. Just take the offer, Granger. And for the love of Merlin, comb your hair!"

With a rather un-Hermione like shriek, she hung up violently.

She was NOT going to take free handouts from Malfoy, even if he was the last one with money on the whole bloody planet.


	8. Chapter 8

_AN- I know I haven't updated, life has been busy. I've got the next chapter all planned out, though. Get ready for some plot twisters._

_Thanks to those who reviewed/faved/followed. :)_

_DISCLAIMER- it's late, I'm tired, I don't own HP_

Chapter Eight

It was late Sunday afternoon and Draco was trying to nap, but it was not working well at all.

First off, he couldn't get comfortable. The bed seemed to have shrunk, leaving no place for him to put his legs. Then there was the fact that he had been suffering from bad dreams as of late and was quite nervous to sleep, despite his tiredness. Next there was the awkward moments where he sat and mused, thinking about work and creating situations in his head where he was a hero in a book. Then Draco had to laugh at himself because he had just pretended that he was a hero. How old was he, five? After that, Draco fiddled with the muggle radio sitting on his bedside table, but all he got was static. Then the light streaming in from the edges of the pulled-down shades was irritating him.

Therefore, Draco found himself lying on his back in pajamas at five o'clock in bed, hand thrown over his eyes while humming a light tune.

Before he could shout 'Sod it all!' and stand up to get dressed, the sleepy blonde slipped into dreamland.

_Draco was sitting at the head of the table, picking absently at the food on his plate. It tasted like ash now, everything did. He swallowed the thick saliva that had pooled at the back of his throat, wincing slightly. He wasn't sure if he could go on, the tense atmosphere was too much._

_"Draco," His mother's soft voice echoed about the spacious room, "Please speak to me,"_

_He gazed at his mother's troubled eyes across the table. The blue orbs were swimming with tears._

_"About what," Draco stabbed the spiced chicken with his fork violently, "Mother?"_

_Narcissa Malfoy flinched but did not object to his sudden display of behavior, "About what you must do this summer,"_

_Draco looked away, his eyes shifting over the tapestries instead, "Mother, I do not want—"_

_"Think of your father!" She cried, rising to her feet with poise, "He is locked away in Azkaban, all because of the stupid mistake at the Ministry last year! What can he do to redeem the Malfoy name? Nothing! But the Dark Lord has said that if you were to perform the task he has set—"_

_"Mother that old fool Dumbledore might look frail, but he is a powerful wizard and very well loved by all those Gryffindors, not even the Dark Lord denies it! I am not saying I am afraid, I am saying that if I were to complete the task, which I could do, that Potter would have my neck wrung before I could blink twice!" _

_Somewhere during his speech, Draco had stood as well, and he had bent over the long table, leaning on his hands. It was as if he wanted to leap across the expanse of wood and throttle his mother. He didn't of course, but the dark expression on his face said otherwise._

_"Draco," Narcissa began to walk towards her only son, all traces of anger gone, "We will protect you if angry Mudbloods and Ministry filth come after you. If you don't do this, then the Dark Lord will—" She halted her words abruptly, looking at the ceiling instead. It was almost as if she was praying._

_"Mother," Draco was desperate now, as he pushed off the table to meet her halfway, "What will the Dark Lord do? Did he threaten you?"_

_"It's all right!" His mother said in a falsely chipper tone, "Just…" And then she began sobbing, "T-They'll k-kill y-you D-Draco and I c-can't l-let that h-happen!" _

_Draco felt lightheaded. He needed to redeem the Malfoy name and not wind up dead. There was no other way out, not that he knew of. Hopelessness coiled at the bottom of his stomach, yet he did not let the emotion play out on his face. He remained collected, a mask of indifference on his face._

_"I l-love you, D-Draco," _

_It was the first time that his mother had ever said something like that. If Draco tried, he could remember faint childhood memories of the same words being whispered in his ear at bedtime. Those had stopped when he was six, when his father started installing the tutoring sessions to help him prepare for school. They were never pleasant, and often ended with an angry Lucius and a disappointed Draco. It was then that he had learned how to hide his emotions._

_Seeing his mother so desperate to keep her son alive and maintain the family name, however, brought Draco's cool façade to a halt._

_"I love you too mother,"_

The blonde awoke with tears streaming down his cheeks. He swiped at them furiously, taking unsteady breaths so he wouldn't dissolve into sobs.

Suddenly, the phone began to ring.

"H-Hello?" Draco hated the way his voice shook when he answered.

"Evan?" Mr. Linney asked, concern coloring his voice. The blonde took several more deep breaths, calming the sorrow that was choking him.

"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" He replied, managing to clear his words of emotion.

"Right… well… I talked to David,"

"Ah," David was the elderly owner of the bookstore on Main Street, "About what?"

"One of the teens who used to work there went off to college recently and he needs another person to fill the spot. I was wondering if you knew anyone?"

Draco smirked, even though Mr. Linney could not see him. It was the perfect situation. He would call Granger about the job, Merlin knows how she needed Muggle money. Draco also didn't want his son to go without anything, and the Gryffindor Princess would never accept money from anyone, especially him. She was also a book worm, and Draco was sure that the brunette would be in seventh heaven if she were to work in a bookshop.

"You know, sir, I might just have a person for the job,"

Draco said goodbye and hung up the phone, smirking the whole time. He would call Granger in the morning, and spring the surprise job on her. The trick would be getting her to take the offer.

The wizard snatched up the phone again, dialing the numbers to Madam Quincie's private phone.

Granger would need some convincing, and Draco knew just how to do so.

X

Hermione stood outside of the little bookstore, frowning Madam Quincie's back. She had pestered her new houseguest into accepting the job.

_"Evan went to all that work to get you this lovely job… you need to accept it!" _

The brunette groaned, and followed the petite elderly woman ahead of her into the bookstore. Somewhere in the back a bell chimed, alerting everyone inside that newcomers had arrived. Hermione half walked, half shuffled to the left side of the store, where the cash register was. There were two, one of which was being handled by a rather handsome dirty blonde whose nametag read 'Andrew'.

"Andrew!" Madam Quincie exclaimed, throwing her arms up in surprise, "It's been so long!"

The man, Andrew, replied, "Madam Quincie! How is Jasmine?"

"Good, good," She waved a hand loosely about, "Unfortunately, I am not here for social reasons,"

"Oh?"

"My friend here, Julia Smith, is new in town. She found out that there was an opening here and wanted the job," Hermione's head snapped up. She had NOT wanted this job. She had wanted time for herself, just to relax for a few weeks before returning to her normal, overachieving self.

"Ah, well my Uncle is out at the moment, but you may come in and speak to me, if you wish,"

He led them through the shop, which was jammed with books, to a back room, which had soft green chairs in it. Hermione sat in one, relieved that she could get off her feet for a few moments. These damn shoes Madam Quincie had forced her into were ridiculous. She did not need to wear high heels to impress somebody!

"Let's get started, shall we?"

X

"Well Malfoy, I got the job,"

Draco settled back against the couch cushions, satisfaction running through his veins. Obviously the guilt trip worked on her. He pressed the phone closer to his ear as he took a sip of his coffee, delaying his response.

"I thought you said you didn't want it?" The blonde asked in mock surprise.

"I need something to keep me busy,"

Draco couldn't resist the next insult, "What, having a son isn't enough to keep you entertained?"

"Oh shut up, Malfoy,"

X

It was a Friday. There was a stiff breeze whistling through Main Street, the kind of breeze that halted all movement and provided a tension that made the locals feel like something was coming. Something that wouldn't be good.

A tall, handsome young man with a strong British accent stepped off the curb of one side of the street, crossing it. People in every shop turned to look at his crisp white dress shirt and pressed black slacks. His shoes were shined to the point that they could've been used as mirrors, and his watch was of the purest silver. His tie was a deep blue, almost black. He walked with elegance but also carefully, a hand in his right pocket at all times. His eyes darted from place to place, as though he thought someone might jump out at him. This confused the townspeople, as nothing bad had ever happened there, besides the occasional robbery. Why he was so skittish, no one could guess.

The man approached the bookstore, his mind set on the task he had to carry out. He entered the shop, ducking behind several shelves. He then scoped out the area. The checkout line was up front, where his target was talking idly with the other cashier. Several people were wondering about the shop, though it was still rather early in the day.

The man ambled about the shop, searching for a book to buy. He finally discovered 'To Kill a Mockingbird' and took the paperback version. He proceeded to walk to the front, his eyes sweeping over the magazine rack. Stupid Muggle magazines, half of them were ads anyways.

The dark-haired man halted in front of Granger, who stopped conversing with the Muggle immediately. She looked up, a look of panic settling across her features. Neither of them spoke for a moment, just looked at each other. Granger looked rather good, for just having escaped the clutches of Voldemort. Her hair was still rather bushy, though it looked somewhat soft. Her eyes were a gentle brown, though there were bags under them. Perhaps she had not been sleeping well. She was not the only one.

At last the silence was broken when the Gryffindor asked,

"Don't I know you?"


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N- Here it is! (Cheers) I'd actually had this written yesterday but I needed to edit some bits and I didn't have time to upload. I really like my 'mystery character' because he wasn't really mentioned in the books and it's fun to develop personalities of characters who don't have 'set' personalities. (Even though this is fanfiction and we can manipulate the characters to do/be whatever the hell we want :D)_

_SORRY for the cursing in this chapter. What would you do if you were in Hermione's position?_

_Thanks for the reviews/faves/follows! Review, por favor. _

_Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter but if I did, the flying car would've had ejector seats (did they have those in the book? I forget) _

_Ps. Happy Early Valentines Day! _

Chapter Nine

Hermione had been having an amazing day. For one it was a Friday, and the previous week had flown by quite fast. Orion had been spending his days playing with the other children at the Boarding House. He was quite content, and was developing social skills, which made Hermione very glad. She wanted him to experience other children around his age, to get to know them better as well. The only thing she prayed for was that her son would not mention any 'Dark Things' or 'Evil People'.

"So I told the men to go home, and take their damn cat with them!" Andrew exclaimed, smiling widely, anticipating her reaction. In turn Hermione smiled before giggling slightly (yes, _giggled_).

Andrew was a very handsome man, with thick blonde hair and exceptionally white teeth. He was charismatic and witty. And the man loved books! Hermione could've married him on the spot.

"But didn't the cat try and bite them?" Hermione asked, leaning against the wooded counter for support. Andrew's story about the frat party was getting a bit ridiculous, but she didn't mind. It was interesting to see what he would come up with next.

Andrew laughed, a low sound, "Yes, and it was quite funny," He said, "The giant furball attacking their faces was undoubtedly the best part of the whole party,"

"Well I've got a better story," Hermione declared irrationally. The door to the shop opened suddenly, the hot summer air ripping through the cool air inside before it clanged shut.

"It was my Third year at a boarding school in Britain. There were a lot of rich jerks who attended there, and they were quite snobby," Andrew nodded sympathetically, "So one time my friends and I were with our good friend and professor, talking about attending a funeral for his… fish," _Or a hippogriff, one of the two, _"And there was this one guy, _ugh_ we absolutely loathed one another, who always used to antagonize my friends and I. As we were coming back from the meeting, he and his cronies showed up. They started calling us names and insulting our friends… fish… so eventually I got so fed up that I punched the git square in the nose,"

Andrew gaped at Hermione for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Julia… Julia you're a badass!" The brunette wrinkled her nose in return. She was _not. _

"No, I was just upset," Hermione fiddled with the edge of her green t-shirt. It was one she had bought at the Salvation Army in D.C. She hadn't had time to take much with her from Britain.

"Still," Andrew paused, before asking, "So have you met Evan McDermitt? He's British,"

Hermione nodded her head, "Yeah, actually. He came around the Boarding House last weekend,"

Andrew glanced away, his eyes distant, "Yeah. I remember when he first came here. We met through my Uncle, who is good friends with Evan's boss, Mr. Linney. When I first saw him, I thought he looked so… _broken_, like the world had screwed him over. His eyes were haunted, like he'd been in a war. But he never talks about his past, where he came from,"

"His father was controlling," Hermione bit out, before slapping a hand over her mouth. She shouldn't have said that.

"You knew him before?" Andrew inquired, turning back to look at her with a wondrous expression on his face.

"I suppose. I got to know him rather well when I punched him in the face,"

And just like that, the heavy atmosphere was gone. Andrew's head was tossed back, and he was laughing heartily, "No way! _Evan _was the guy you punched? That is too funny!"

Hermione grinned, "Yeah. I found it rather satisfactory,"

"Did you two become friends?"

"Hardly," Hermione snorted in a very unladylike fashion. _He's just the father of my child._

A tall, dark haired man was approaching the register. He was dressed rather nicely, with a crisp white shirt and black slacks. Hermione thought that he was handsome, as well as familiar.

The man set down a book, 'To Kill a Mockingbird', on the counter. Hermione looked at it, then back to the man. He didn't say anything, merely stared at her. His dark brown eyes raked over her face, not ashamed of what he was doing. It was not a sexual interaction, merely as if he was trying to be sure that she really existed.

He looked so _familiar_…

"Don't I know you?" Hermione wasn't even aware that she had spoken until the final vowel came tumbling out of her mouth. This strange man fingered something in his pocket…

"Intelligent answer," He smirked, and everything fell into place. Suddenly, almost randomly, he pulled a small vial from his pocket and removed the stopper, drinking it all in one gulp.

"Holy shi… Zabini?" Malfoy's friend during Fifth and Sixth year, Slytherin extraordinaire, Pureblood… _What the hell is he doing here?_ He had been a Death Eater, she knew that much. He was always away on missions for the Dark Lord, however, and Hermione had not been keeping track of him when she was at Malfoy Manor.

"Indeed, Granger, indeed. I don't believe that we were ever fully introduced," Zabini stuck out a hand, "I'm Blaise Zabini, Death Eater and Order member,"

Had Hermione been drinking water, it would've been everywhere.

"What?" She gaped, forgetting her setting completely, "You are… What?"

Zabini chuckled, "I pulled a Snape, Granger, and shifted between the greys,"

"Alright," Hermione crossed her arms, "Now you're not making sense,"

"Foolish woman, I was on both the light side and the dark,"

"Ok," Hermione responded carefully, eyeing him with curiosity, "That still doesn't explain why you're here,"

Andrew cut in, "Wait wait wait… you two know each other?" They nodded in sync, "And how come, _Julia_," Andrew rounded on Hermione, "That he is calling you 'Granger'?"

"We-ell…"

"Oh this is rich!" Zabini cried, rubbing his hands together, "You're under an alias then? Smart, something I had expected from you, Granger,"

Hermione frowned deeply, "Well, Malfoy did it. You honestly expect-"

"Draco is _here_?" Zabini's eyes got wide, as though Christmas had come early, "Really? Oh sweet Salazar, I… Merlin!"

"That's all you have to say? Wizarding exclamations about how your precious friend is in Kansas?"

"Woah woah woah! You cannot just interrogate my employee!" Andrew slammed his hands down on the wooden counter, "Furthermore, what the hell are you two talking about? You sound like lunatics!"

Zabini muttered something beneath his breath that sounded a bit like "Bloody muggles,"

"Andrew, this is an old… acquaintance of mine from school. I know it's a bit unprofessional, but no one is waiting in line and I'd really like to talk to him… alone…"

"No," Andrew replied, green eyes flashing, "Anything you can't say in front of me cannot be said at all,"

Hermione looked to Zabini for help, but he merely shrugged, "Right. Well, as much to your dismay I'm sure, I'm not here for idle chit-chat. Granger, I have important news,"

Hermione frowned, discerned by his suddenly serious expression. His eyes got colder, more distant, and frown lines creased his brow.

"The Death Eaters are trying to find you,"

Hermione felt like she was going to throw up.

"Fucking hell," She choked out, not meaning to curse but managing to anyhow, "How… why…"

Zabini held up a finger, "Allow me to finish. The Death Eaters are coming, however the Order is leading them on a wild goose chase to Brazil. McGonagall and I have put together an elite team, of sorts, to perform this task,"

"Who does it consist of?" Hermione dared to breathe.

"Denis Creevy, George Weasley, the one with no ear, Hannah Abbot and Hagrid the Oaf,"

"Hey!" Hermione shot back, "Hagrid is _not _an oaf,"

"Right, so that hippogriff in Third year just attacked Malfoy for no reason-"

"He was being an arrogant sod and you know-"

"Ok!" Zabini held up both hands in defeat, "He was an arrogant ass. That is not the point. The point is, we are leading a group of escaped Death Eaters to Brazil, where they think you and Orion are, where we will spring on them and cart them off to Azkaban,"

"So why are you here?"

"Because I was sent to track you down to find out your actual whereabouts. The thing is that the plan could backfire at any moment. The Death Eaters think that I'm searching America for you, which isn't exactly a lie but I have no intention of telling them my findings. I am the best tracker that ever laid foot on Voldemort's soil,"

Hermione shuddered. She had never actually learned what he did for Voldemort. Tracking down people for the Dark Lord was considered to be quite an honor.

"I was sent here to warn you, Granger. The Death Eaters _are_ coming,"

"Like the British are coming?" Hermione questioned jokingly, though Zabini had a blank look on his face, "No? American history, you know, Paul Revere?"

The man on the other side of the counter let out a huff of irritation, "I am neither American nor muggle, Granger, so please spare me the history lesson,"

"Right. Go on,"

"They are hungry for blood, Granger. You killed their _humble_ master, and they want revenge,"

Andrew gasped from behind Hermione. Damn, she had forgotten about him.

"You k-killed somebody?" The witch spun about to face him. His eyes were wide with shock.

"Someone evil," Zabini's voice called over her shoulder. Hermione sighed and pressed a hand to her temple, not turning around.

"Continue,"

"Well, the Death Eaters might take a little trip to come and find me before they head down to Brazil… and if they do, you and your son need to be far, far away,"

"You have a son?!" Andrew half-shrieked. Hermione nodded absently.

"Yeah. I should show you a picture sometime," She muttered, sarcasm lacing her sweet tone.

"The Order doesn't know that you killed our ol' friend Tom, Granger. Only the team, McGonagall and I do. I plan on Obliviating the team as soon as they are done with their task,"

Hermione glanced back at Zabini, "Why would you do that?"

"You became a Death Eater, Granger. We are rounding up all of them, myself excluded. You will not be treated different because you did it to save your son. You will get a lesser sentence, two years at most, but still. I did it because I had already become a spy for the Order. You did it, by all means, willingly. I have no choice but to make them forget,"

"What a mess,"

"Indeed," Zabini pulled a small brown sack from his right pocket, dropping it on the table. Something metal inside clanged against one another, "Galleons," Zabini clarified, "A hundred of 'em,"

"Why would you-" Hermione was astounded at the amount of gold he had given her. They were practically strangers!

Zabini had removed something from the drawstring bag, paper slips, "Three airplane tickets. I was going to track Draco down too, but seeing as he's already here… The plane takes off tomorrow at five. Get the hell out of here, Granger, just for a couple weeks,"

The paranoid war heroine in Hermione came forth, "And how do I know that this isn't a trap of some kind?"

Zabini sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "I'll prove it to you," He took the small vial he had put in his pocket earlier out, placing it on the counter. The glass connected with the wood with an odd sort of 'thunk'. Hermione picket it up immediately, examining it. On one side there was a label, written 'Veritaserum'.

"Truth serum," She breathed. You drunk this just before you talked to me," She couldn't deny that he had drown the entire bottle, she had watched him.

"Believe me?"

"Yes," Hermione managed to say. Zabini nodded and began to stalk towards the exit.

"Wait!" The brunette called, mystified at his sudden desire to leave, "Where are you going?"

"To find Draco and talk to him! I need to tell him what I have just told you. The third plane ticket is for him," Zabini said, rushed, "I need to be back in Britain by tonight,"

"Alright…" Hermione nodded, pocketing the Galleons and tickets, "I'll talk to him later as well," Panic swept her suddenly. The Death Eaters could find her at any time… Hermione wanted to faint.

"Oh, and Granger?" Zabini called, almost as an afterthought as he made his way out of the store, "Obliviate your friend for me?"

Hermione nodded again, and drew her wand from her pocket. She glanced about, being sure that no one was watching them. Andrew had backed up against the wall, terrified.

"I'm so sorry," She murmured, pressing her wand to his temple, "_Obliviate,_"

Andrew's jaw went slack for a moment, his eyes growing cloudy. Hermione pocketed her wand, wondering if she had done the spell wrong…

"Julia!" Andrew spoke in a relieved yet cheerful voice, "I'm sorry, I think that I blacked out for a moment there. Where was I in my story?"

"I think," Hermione offered slowly, "You were at the part about the cat attacking the men,"

Andrew nodded in affirmation, and without a single thought, dove into his story for the second time in an hour, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She had taken a leap, trusting Zabini like that. What was done was done, however, and the brunette could not change her past decisions. Now, she needed to focus on whether or not she was going to get on the airplane.

X

Draco sighed and flipped through the folder again, trying to process the information. It was difficult, however, because Sasha was undressing him with her eyes from her desk across the room. The blonde was torn; half of him wanted to leap across the desks and snog her and the other half wanted to yell at her for being so irritating.

Sasha was not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.

For one thing, she got all the real estate terms messed up. A mortgage was not the same thing as a down payment, for Merlinssakes! For another, she was always staring at Draco, a man four years her senior. Not like he wasn't attractive (_Because he was_) but it was irritating when a dull bimbo stared at you all day long, no matter how great her willingness to leap into bed.

So here Draco was, on a Friday afternoon, trying to decide on whether or not he should just leave work early for the weekend.

Just then, the door to his office burst open.

In the frame stood what Draco thought was a ghost. His dark brown hair and reserved eyes were offset by the whiteness of his shirt. His skin was tan and his tie blue. Behind the man stood a woman, his secretary Clara, twittering about the man 'just barging in'.

Draco stood, his mouth agape.

"Blaise?"

"Holy shit man, you look so professional," The former Slytherin cracked a smile. And Draco threw his arms around his friend, pure happiness running through his veins.

When the two finally pulled apart, Draco waved a hand at a very confused Clara, "It's ok, he's my friend,"

The secretary looked shocked, though it was probably because Evan McDermitt had just declared that he had _friends_. If they weren't careful, zombies would probably spring from the ground.

Clara nodded and shut the door softly. The blonde turned and walked to his desk, opening the bottom most drawer. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, one of his hidden ones he kept reserved for special occasions. Zabini nodded and Draco filled up two glasses. The blonde sat back in his chair, as did Blaise in the one on the opposite side of the desk.

"What was the first thing I ever said to you?" Draco asked suddenly, sipping the drink.

"'I'm not sure why,'" Blaise recalled, "'But I think you'd make a good Slytherin,'"

Draco nodded, accepting the answer. Blaise and he had met on the Hogwarts Express before First year, though they hadn't become good friends until Fifth.

"My turn," The Italian said, "What did you do after seeing Nott and I discussing how hot we thought Granger had been after the Yule Ball in Fourth year?"

Draco flushed, something that was quite unusual for him, "I…er… Do I have to answer, Zabini? You know what happened!"

"The point," Blaise smirked, "Of the question is to see if you are really, well, _you. _You've got to answer,"

Draco set his jaw and spoke flatly, "I said 'She has such potential, if only she wasn't a Mudblood,'"

Blaise nodded, grinning now at his friend's expense, "Yes, indeed. I remember that well," His dark eyes grew distant for a moment, as though reliving an old memory, "Speaking of Granger…"

"She's here," Draco finished, running a hand through his hair, "I know. Mate, I thought I'd escaped it all, I thought…"

"They're hunting her down,"

Draco felt his stomach drop into his shoes. He knew who '_They' _were… The Death Eaters. They were coming for Granger and her son. _His _son.

"I am leading them down a false road but they've got spies _everywhere," _Zabini whispered. Sasha looked up from her paperwork, smiling slightly.

"I'm going to copy these," She said as she stood, waving the thick packet of legal work in the air, "I'll let you guys keep talking, ok?"

The door shut with a subtle click.

"What do I do?" It was the first time in several years that Draco had sounded desperate, but now he was holding the glass so hard that he thought it might break and his face was flushed, "Granger is gonna flip shit, Blaise! We just met up about a week ago, I don't know how the hell—"

Zabini chuckled, much to Draco's surprise, "I've already talked to her, mate,"

"Really? She actually talked to you? What did you tell her?" The blonde felt giddy and ridiculous, but he didn't care. This was the first person, besides Granger, whom he had been in contact with from the magical world in five years. Draco was entitled to his un-Slytherin like behavior, even if it was just this once.

"I'm working for the Order of the Phoenix,"

Draco nearly dropped his drink.

"You've been… what?" Draco couldn't believe it. His friend, his SLYTHERIN friend, had been fighting for the light side.

"Funny," Blaise said, tipping his head back to finish off the whiskey, "But Granger had almost the exact same reaction,"

"Don't compare me to that… Mudblood," The blonde bit out halfheartedly. He didn't care about her blood status anymore. Living with muggles got the prejudice out of one's system rather fast.

"I'm also a Death Eater. I joined just after you left. I'm loyal to the Order, though. Which is why I'm here," Blaise set down his glass with a chink on the wooden table, leaning forward on his elbows, "The Death Eaters are looking for her. I was sent to look about North America, though it hasn't been easy. I've been here for two months, tracking her down. I also observed you two from a distance for a while, waiting until I could talk to you each separately,"

Draco nodded, taking it all in.

"Basically, the Order has a team of people leading the Death Eaters on a false trail, where they will be captured. Naturally, they are pissed at her for killing Voldemort. However, several of them are rather… suspicious. Nearly all of them were Slytherins, after all, and they are bringing out their cunning sides. That's why they sent me here; they want me to be sure that Granger is not in North America. I realize that this task could be impossible with just me, I mean look at all the people in this country! I think that they thought I could handle it, which I did. I found Granger and her son, and you as a bonus,

"If they find out about the false lead, however, the Death Eaters might pick up on something real, a trail leading right to Granger. That's why I am here really. To warn you, the both of you. If you get caught here, Draco, you will be punished as a traitor,"

The blonde settled back into his chair, not realizing how he had been leaning forward to catch Zabini's every word.

"So…" Draco trailed off, choosing his next words carefully, "What is going to happen? Where do I go?"

Zabini stood, smirking slightly, walking across the room to study a painting, "Well, mate, I think it's time you get out of this blasted farmland. I don't like it, it's too dull. How do you feel," Blaise turned around, facing Draco once more, "About New York City?"


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N- WARNING... This chapter will pull on your heart strings. At least it did for me. I'm tearing up right now and I WROTE it. Not quite sure if I got the whole mother/son protectiveness thing though; I'm not a parent. _

_This was actually a really fluffy chapter when I started out, but it just sort of morphed into angst. Sorry! Next chapter will be super duper fun and it will involve Draco dancing on a giant piano (there's this toy store in New York which I can't remember the name of and it has this giant piano that you can step on and it plays music). Next chapter will also have some flashbacks of what happened in between the time Draco met Blaise and when they got on the plane. _

_Also this chapter talks about 9/11. Not a lot, but I just figured that Hermione would pick up on that two of the largest buildings in the world were missing from New York._

_ANYWAYS enough rambling! Enjoy le chapter. _

Chapter Ten

Draco was discovering that he really didn't like airplanes. For one, they were too noisy. People were clattering about, talking in loud voices. And the _intercom_, it was so obnoxious that Draco wanted to storm into the cockpit and strange the pilot. Also, the seatbelts were much too constricting, digging into his skin. The bathroom was too small, the ascent too horrifying, and there was an obnoxious child sitting behind him, kicking his seat.

"I swear to every god, demon and saint alike, if that child kicks my chair one more time…" Draco threated, whispering in Granger's ear. The brunette shot him a wary look and hissed back,

"Oh shove it, Malfoy. It was your friend who got us these seats in the first place,"

The blonde rolled his eyes, looking to his left at Orion. The young boy was playing with his toy cars, quietly running them up and down the window. The sun was peaking over the horizon at six o' three in the morning, and Draco concluded that the view was the only good part about the ride.

"Orion, are you having fun?" He questioned, refusing to call his son Ronnie.

Silver met silver, "Yep!" Orion stated, blinking up at Draco fondly. The child then proceeded to drop his favorite red car into the crack between the wall and the seat. Orion glanced over at his mother, his chin trembling.

"I'll get it!" Draco announced, unbuckling his seatbelt swiftly, dropping to his knees on the floor. There was gum on the carpet, which the blonde unknowingly set his hand in.

"YEEEEAACKK!" He half yelled, half barked as he stared down at the dirty pink glob. Granger sniggered behind him, not making a move to do anything about the half-chewed atrocity that was plastered to Draco's skin.

"Screw you, Granger," Draco whispered, low enough so that only he could hear. He then proceeded to reach into the dusty area in which the toy car resided. Orion was now watching him, a small smirk on his face. After several painful moments of searching, along with several… interesting discoveries (a half-chewed Cheeto, several grimy coins and a ball of hair) the red car was recovered.

Draco sat back in his seat, snatching several of the 'complimentary hand wipes' out of the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him. He wiped off his hand, and the car, before giving the toy back to Orion.

"You're silly," Orion stated, taking his once lost toy.

Granger snorted, and Draco mumbled, "Malfoy's are _not _silly,"

X

"New York!" Hermione gasped as they walked around the corner. Draco sighed and pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose, tired of her constant chatter.

"Yes, it's wonderful," The blonde dodged a very sick looking man lying on the street. New York had not been what he had been expecting. It was smelly and dirty, with too many people pressed up against one another.

Granger loved it.

"The City of Dreams!" She cried, throwing her arms in front of her dramatically. Her black purse dangled on her elbow, swinging in the breeze. Her black suitcase nearly hit several pedestrians rushing past, and they glared at her in the true New York fashion.

Orion and Draco shared a look, as though it was expected that she act this way. They held hands as not to lose each other in the hoard of people, keeping the wild-haired brunette in sight. She knew where they were staying, as she'd booked the hotel last minute. They'd flown into an airport in Brooklyn, were they'd proceeded to hop on the subway to get to Manhattan. The subway was disgusting and crowded. Plus, the tunnels were dark and had scared Orion quite a bit. He did not like going underground.

"The City that Never Sleeps!" She burst out, awestruck, "I've always wanted to come here!"

"Why the… does she always act like this?" Draco asked, turning to the young boy next to him. Orion shook his head slowly as they walked, his lips pursed in thought. Draco thought that he looked rather like Narcissa when he did that.

"No," He answered finally, "She used to be sad all the time, because of the Dark Place,"

Draco closed his eyes for a full five seconds, he knew because he counted, and then reopened them. The Dark Place… _How the hell is this kid not completely screwed up?_

They walked in silence for a few moments, keeping Hermione a short distance away. She didn't say anything; she was lost in her own world. Her neck would crane upwards, staring at the peaks of buildings.

_The Dark Place…_

How did she survive it? Nearly four years… four years in which she was forced to become a Death Eater and kill people to save her son from torture. Draco realized that he had barely begun to scratch the surface on his understanding of what they had been through.

_I won't let it happen again. I will protect Orion at all costs. Granger too. She might be a Mudblood, but she didn't deserve what happened to her. She definitely doesn't need to go through it again. _

"You look like me,"

Orion shocked Draco out of his thoughts.

"Er…" The blonde glanced around, trying not to freak out. He might've become friendly with Orion, but he still had no idea how to deal with children.

"Will you be my daddy? I don't have one, and you have my hair. You make mummy laugh sometimes, and she never used to laugh before. And you're magical, like mummy and me. Please please please please ppppppllllleeeeaaaasseeeee?" It was probably the longest thing that Orion had said to Draco in a consecutive period of time. Plus he was so adorable, with big silver eyes and pouty lips.

"Of course," Draco muttered, ruffling the child's hair. He received a scowl in return; obviously Orion had inherited the 'Malfoy Hair Vainness Trait'.

"Well," Orion said slowly, once they had begun walking again, "If you wanna be my daddy, you have to marry mummy,"

Well. Shit.

"I..." Draco was at a loss for words. Before he could cover up his long pause, however, an airplane flew overhead. Orion giggled and held up a hand, pointing to it.

"Look!"

Draco breathed out a sigh of relief, and hurried to catch up with Granger.

X

"So here's where you'll be sleeping," Hermione gestured to the room weakly, moving to stand to the door next to it, "And this is our room,"

Malfoy nodded, staring at the rusty golden '42' nailed on his door, "Ok…" He fingered the plastic key card helplessly in his hand, though he showed no confusion on his face.

"Oh for the love of Merlin… give me that!" Hermione snatched the key from the blonde's hand, sticking it in the slot. It blinked green, and clicked open.

"Magic," Malfoy whispered, only half joking, and he pulled his bag into the room after him.

Orion peered up at his mother curiously, "Not real magic though mummy. Real magic is better," Hermione smiled and took his hand. They went into the room together. There were two twin beds covered in green comforters with starchy pillows piled on top. In the corner there was a blue upholstered chair, and in a wooden cabinet, a T.V. The wooden desk had a phone and a notepad on it, as well as several cheap pens.

Hermione made sure that all the lights worked, including the ones in the bathroom, before setting her purse and small suitcase down at the foot of her bed.

"Here we are," She said, turning to face her son, "You want to go out and get for lunch?"

Orion shot her a look before stubbornly crossing his arms, "I want to wait for daddy,"

Hermione, mouth agape, stared right back at the young boy, "What?" She asked at last, wiping the befuddled expression off her face.

"I asked your friend… if he… would be… my daddy b-because he looks like me!" Orion burst out, beaming wildly, "He's nice mummy!"

Hermione smiled, breathing a sigh of relief. The awkward confrontation in which she would have to tell Orion about his parentage could wait.

"Great honey. Do you want to go get him?"

Orion nodded, reaching for the door handle. He had trouble twisting it, however, and ended up stamping his foot on the carpet in frustration.

"I can't open it mummy! I d-don't know h-how…"

Suddenly, he burst into tears.

Hermione rushed forwards, gathering the small child into her arms, "Shhhh Ronnie, shhh," She soothed as she sunk to the floor, rocking him back and forth in her arms. Gasping for breath, Orion tried to wipe away his tears. The brunette pulled a wadded up tissue out of her jeans pocket and did it for him, cradling his head against her chest.

"W-why can't I o-open the door m-mummy? I just couldn't d-do it!" Orion burst into hysterics again, burying his face in his mother's shirt.

"I'll teach you, ok?" This was the way she always calmed him; when Orion did not know how to do something, no matter how small of a task, Hermione would promise to help him. She did it at Malfoy Manor, when they were alone. She'd teach him how to use the 'big people toilet', how to brush his teeth, how to put on his clothes. They had not been living in luxury (Hermione almost laughed at the thought) but after she'd taken the mark they'd been given a small room with a miniscule bathroom off of it. It was better than the dungeons at least. And Hermione had assisted her son in learning everything that he might need to know to get along in the world. How to talk, how to walk. She'd begun to teach him how to read, though it was difficult with just a single battered dictionary that had been discovered under the floorboards.

Her son didn't have nightmares, and when he did they were never discussed. Hermione pressed, asked if he was ok, but Orion refused to talk about what he dreamt of. The only breakdowns were the ones like these; when Orion could not do something that he should know how to do.

Her son didn't want to be different.

He had scars on his back and arms, though not many. One could just presume that he was a clumsy child. He didn't act different from the other children he'd interacted with, except for the occasional confusion on what something was. The only thing that set Orion apart was the 'Halfblood Filth' engraved in spidery handwriting on the back of his hand. The thought of it made Hermione want to scream, though it was a white-ish scar and barely visible in the light. What they had done to him was wrong, so very wrong, no matter if many people did notice it was there…

_She_ knew it was there.

"Mummy?" Orion peaked out of her shirt, his eyes rimmed red. Hermione glanced down, overwhelmed with emotion. Love for her son, hatred for the bastards that had managed to break the one thing that she'd promised herself to always protect, self-loathing for taking the mark in the first place.

"Ronnie?" Hermione asked, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"You're crying mummy," Orion stated gently, putting a small hand to her face, "Please don't cry,"

The brunette smiled sadly. She was exhausted all of a sudden, and wanted nothing more than to lie down in her bed and sleep. She couldn't, however, as someone was knocking on the door.

"Granger, open up! I want to see if your view is as good as mine!"

Hermione stood, drawing Orion to his feet with her. She approached the door, kneeling on the ground. She pulled her son's hand to the doorknob, which she put her hand over as well, guiding him. They twisted it open together, a proud smile gracing both their faces, though for different reasons. Orion was proud because he'd done it. Hermione was because her son was elated about what he had done.

Draco stood in the doorframe, tapping his foot impatiently. When he saw them on the floor, however, his brow creased.

"What are you… what are you doing?"

"I learned how to open the door daddy!" Orion gasped, and something flickered in Malfoy's eyes. Was it… pain?

_Of course not, Hermione, don't be ridiculous. _

"Lunch then?" He offered, avoiding Hermione's curious look.

X

Draco shuffled down the street in Lower Manhattan, full from lunch. They had gotten pizza at a place that was overly crowded. The wait had served its purpose, however, when they tucked in. The pizza was… well, it was like heaven with cheese.

Granger had been oddly quiet, though her eyes were oddly red when Draco had opened the door to the hotel room. She walked next to him, Orion's hand in hers. They tried not to look at each other, though Draco kept sneaking glances. Her brunette hair was rather rumpled, puffing out at odd angles. She wore a long-sleeved blue cardigan, though it was almost eighty degrees outside.

Since leaving the pizza shop, Granger had been intent on staring at the ground. In the last few minutes, however, she had been alternating between the sidewalk and the sky, as though determining if a flying saucer was up there. Finally, the obviously intrigued woman turned to Draco and asked, "Where are they?"

"What?" The blonde hadn't a clue what she was talking about. He looked to the tops of the buildings, like something was missing. No building had disappeared, as far as he knew.

"The World Trade Center, the twin towers. Where are they?"

Draco swallowed, remembering the news from a year ago. She wouldn't know, she had been in the Manor. He suddenly couldn't seem to hold her questioning gaze, looking at the passerby's instead.

"Well, last year in September, a group of terrorists called Al-Qaeda flew a plane into the towers. They brought them down," Draco stared into nothing, loss echoing about in his chest. What a waste of life. Why were people so cruel, so heartless?

_Are they really so different from the Death Eaters? _

Granger sucked in a breath, "Oh. Well, I… Sorry, it's just that the Trade Center has always interested me and…"

She fell silent, letting her words drop into nothing. The trio stood there, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Draco shook his head, blinking to get himself out of the morally-challenging feelings he was experiencing. Because what were the differences between Al Qaeda and the Death Eaters?

Besides magic and the group they were targeting, nothing.

"Shall we move on then?" The blonde asked, meeting the warm brown eyes of Hermione.

"Yes," She whispered, jiggling her arm to get Orion to focus on what she was saying, "We should,"


	11. Chapter 11

A/N- _Sorry I haven't updated sooner, I've been busy! I know this chapter is short, but it's pretty light hearted and I've got the next one all figured out (now I just have to type it)._

_Thanks to those who faved/followed/reviewed! It's awesome to hear from y'all. _

_On a quick side note, I (finally) created a tumblr. ( .com), just in case anyone is interested. _

_Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter... JK Rowling, you lucky, lucky woman. _

Chapter 11

_It stunk. Of mold, decay, and the faint tangy twist of piss and blood. Hermione closed her eyes, as if protecting herself from what she might find. The only light was from a dwindling torch on the stone wall. It was very medieval and the brunette repressed a hysterical giggle. It was surreal to be back here again. It was a nightmare._

_"Here ya' go, Mudblood," The Death Eater holding her shackled arms breathed, his disgusting breath tickling the back of Hermione's neck, "I'll be back later,"_

_She was pushed into the cellar, followed by Ginny. They landed on the ground with painful thumps, "Here," There was another thump, followed by a rather loud shriek._

_"Orion," Hermione sobbed, reaching forward blindly for her child. Her hands brushed across the wet floor, though she couldn't do much with them bound together. After a moment, she touched a head covered in thin baby hair, and, using her elbows, she picked Orion up. He was still wailing, though Hermione cooed softly at him so he'd be quieter._

_"Hermione…." Ginny whispered, shuffling forward towards her friend, "Is he alright?"_

_"Yes…. I think so, yes," Hermione felt about on his soft head for a few moments, happy when she found it bump-free, "He must've landed on his back, thank God,"_

_"Ok, good," Ginny sighed, "Good…"_

"Good God, Granger," Malfoy said, drawing Hermione out of her memories. She glanced up at him, smiling wickedly.

"This is New York, Malfoy. You honestly thought we wouldn't be doing anything interesting?"

They were on top of the Rockefeller Center, a tall building built in the early nineteen-somethings. It had over forty floors and a large observation deck on the top, in which people could look at the skyline, examine people below or, as Malfoy was doing, stand in the center with their arms crossed.

"No, actually. I thought the purpose of this trip was to avoid a possible run-in with the Death Eaters, not standing atop a rather… _high _building without protection,"

Realization dawned on Hermione, "You're afraid of heights! That's why you hated the plane ride!"

Malfoy was looking uncomfortable now, "Erm, yes. That is why I hated the plane ride. It is also why I am NOT ENJOYING this,"

"Orion didn't inherit your lack of adventure, apparently," Hermione stated wryly, pointing to her son, who was peering over the edge of the building on his tiptoes.

Draco gaped, before rushing towards Orion. He pulled the blonde child away from the ledge, which was surrounded by a stone barrier, and slung him over his shoulder.

"I want to visit the gift shop!" Malfoy announced on their way back. Hermione watched as Orion squealed in delight.

Watching Malfoy and her son interact was almost endearing. It was interesting to see the way the older of the two loosened up when they were together; it was good to see the once uptight Draco Malfoy relax a bit to enjoy life more. Granted, Hermione supposed that much of his stress and nastiness shown at Hogwarts had been caused by Voldemort living under his roof for nearly two years.

Well, technically more. But Malfoy hadn't been there for that bit.

"C'mon, don't want to miss the key chains, do we?" The blonde called over his shoulder, letting Orion down carefully. Hermione laughed and moved to join them. She couldn't help the smile that broke across her face; it was contagious, after all.

X

"What the fu—"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Draco Malfoy,"

Draco glanced around once more in horror. They had just finished lunch at a nice bistro, and then Granger insisted that they come here, to a toy store by the name of FAO Schwartz. He had noticed the excited look on Orion's face when the place was mentioned, so he agreed instantly. The child was starting to grow on him, after all.

He had _not _expected this.

There were children everywhere. Some running about with toys in their hands and smiles on their faces, others being scolded by parents, tears running down their cheeks. There were so many toys, piled up and stacked neatly in various piles. Granger looked like she was regretting her decision to go there in the first place.

"Woah," The tinier of the two blondes whispered, his eyes wide. Draco half groaned, half smiled, and immediately reached for the small child's hand.

"We have to stick together, ok?"

Orion batted his eyelashes, nodding cutely. Granger bit her bottom lip, like she was going to burst into laughter or sobs any second. Draco cocked his head to the side.

"Where do you want to start, Granger?"

She sighed, glancing about again, "I suppose it is rather… crowded down here. Want to go upstairs?"

"Sure!" Orion answered this time, bouncing up and down on his tiptoes, "Let's go!"

The next half an hour was a blur. They were dragged through shelves and shelves of products, though Orion never asked for a single toy. He wanted to, that much was obvious, but he never begged or pleaded for anything. After Orion had picked up the same teddy bear for the sixth time, Draco crouched in front of him, smiling warmly.

"Do you want this?" He asked, taking the stuffed animal from the boy's hand. Orion seemed to curl in on himself, his tiny shoulders drooping.

"No… no thank you," His voice trembled.

"Well too bad!" The wizard announced, reaching over to hold the boy's face so their eyes would meet, "I'm buying it for you anyway," The child's eyes lit up instantly, a giant smile breaking across his face.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. If there's anything else you want, please tell me, ok?" Draco commanded, somewhat jokingly. Orion nodded, the grin growing bigger.

Just then Granger approached them, an uncharacteristic smirk on her face. She jabbed the air over her shoulder with her thumb, "There's a piano over there,"

"Ok…" Draco said, standing, "So?"

"Go check it out, I think you'll find it interesting," Her smirk turned into a somewhat sadistic grin. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Should I be scared about this?" He asked, somewhat tentatively.

"Very," She replied, before shooing them, "Now go!"

Draco handed the teddy bear back to his son and turned, straightening his shoulders, "Let's go, Orion,"

Orion giggled and tugged at Draco's arm, "Yeah!" And he took off. Draco had to run to catch up with him. At that point, he was standing in a short line to a large piano that, if the people standing on it were direct indicators, could be danced on while the piano played music. It looked a bit silly but Orion was jumping up and down excitably.

Granger moseyed over, leaning against the small rope indicating where the line began.

"Let me hold that for you, sweetheart," She gestured at the bear in Orion's hand. He gave it to her, somewhat hesitantly.

Just then, the attendant present began mentioning that the people on the piano should leave, and that those in line were free to step up. Orion immediately ran onto the musical instrument, stepping on the wide keys. Draco watched as they lit up and music filled the air. Many children were dancing on the piano, several adults too. Granger watched from the other side of the rope, her eyes never leaving her son.

"Daddy…. Come join me?" Orion motioned, smiling widely. Draco scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I dunno about that…"

"You promised, anything I want…." Orion smiled in a manipulative way, earning a rather loud snort from Granger.

"I know where he gets _that_ from…"

"Fine!" Draco announced, moving to join his son, "But if I make a fool of myself I'm blaming you!" He joked, stepping onto the keys. He startled when a high note was ejected, and they key turned a bright blue.

"Gah!" The wizard exclaimed, "Sorcery!"

Orion giggled and began dancing childishly, "C'mon, dance!" He commanded.

Draco stared at the boy for a moment before giving in, "Fine," he agreed, and began to shuffle his feet across the piano. The blonde felt incredibly awkward. Then, Orion asked him to dance faster.

So he did.

His legs moved on their own accord, forming intricate patterns without rhyme or reason. After a short pause he picked up Orion and swung the boy around a bit, before placing him back on the instrument. Draco waltzed, tangoed and salsa-ed about the piano before the new wave of people were called in. Orion beamed up at his father, a pleased expression on his face.

"Wow, you're good!" He exclaimed, as they made their way over to Granger.

"Yeah," She added, when they arrived, "You are, _piano boy,"_

Draco fought off the heat that threatened to raise to his cheeks, "Shut up," He grumbled.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N- I know this chapter is REALLY short, but I've been really busy and I didn't want to go another week without updating. If any of you are reading Into the Past, I swear I will sit down on Friday and finish the chapter and post it._

_On a better note, spring break is next week, so I'll be able to relax and hopefully get some stuff done. School is going to kill me someday._

_I also had to explain 'shipping' to four people this week... I wanted to bang my head against a wall repeatedly. _

_Thanks to those who left me reviews! They were lovely. Also to those who faved/followed._

_Disclaimer- I'm broke. 'Nuff said. _

Chapter Twelve

"_Hermione Granger," A cold voice that echoed down the young woman's spine said, "What a pleasant surprise. You will be rewarded for this, Lucius,"_

_The blonde smirked in satisfaction, a pale hand on Voldemort's shoulder, "Of course, my Lord," Voldemort glanced up at Lucius, pride nor anger showing on his features. He merely stared into Malfoy's eyes until the latter glanced away uncomfortably. A bead of sweat could be seen trickling down the blonde's forehead. So he wasn't as calm around his Dark Lord as he pretended to be. Interesting. _

_Voldemort turned back to stare at Hermione, a sadistic smile flashing across his face. It was absolutely terrifying. _

_Hermione whimpered in fear, but bit down on her lip to prevent it from escaping. She was Hermione Granger, Gryffindor, not a scared First year. The worst that Voldemort could do was torture her, kill her. Perhaps kill Ginny in front of her… or Orion._

_She immediately banished that thought from her mind. It was simply too terrible to think of. _

"_It's lovely to see you again, Mudblood. Enjoying life without Potter or Weasel?" A Death Eater jeered from his spot in the corner. Voldemort raised his wand, his thin red eyes never leaving the brunette in front of him._

"_Silence," He hissed, before muttering a curse that Hermione had never heard before. Judging by the screams coming from that area of the room, however, it was not pleasant, "You are not allowed to speak, Alecto,"_

_Lucius removed his hand, somewhat cautiously, as Voldemort stood, his snake-like nostrils flaring, "Besides, we have another… guest in our presence this evening,"_

_Ginny exhaled slowly; Hermione could hear it._

"_We mustn't be rude to her. She might feel self-conscious due to the lack of… attention," The evil wizard murmured, dropping into a crouch in front of the two women sitting on the floor. He'd instructed them to be that way, trying to assert that they were below him on both the physical and social level._

_Hermione tried not to gag as she felt the man who'd killed her best friend turn his attention to her. She loathed him with every fiber of her being, and wanted nothing more than for him to be dead._

"_And little Miss Granger," A single pale finger stretched out to curl one of her brown curls about it, it's whiteness contrasting sharply with her hair color, "Such a lovely thing, aren't we?"_

_Brown eyes met red, "Lovelier than you," She bit out furiously. _

_The playful look dropped off the cruel face, "Respect your uppers, Miss Granger," he said, reeling back to slap her harshly on the cheek. She blinked several times in order to clear the stars away from her vision._

_Voldemort stood then, turning his back to Ginny and Hermione. He stalked across the room, staring at a snickering portrait of a man who looked similar to Malfoy, only with several wrinkles creasing his eyes._

"_Oh Abraxas, my dear departed friend. If only you could be here in person to see this," Voldemort stated, somewhat regretfully. Hermione cocked her head to the side, confused._

"_See what, my Lord?" The painting responded, a smirk growing on his features._

"_This," Voldemort responded flatly, twisting about to face the rest of the room. He drew his wand and shouted, "Crucio,"_

Hermione awoke with a shout. She was drenched in sweat, and it made her shirt cling to her chest thickly. Orion was asleep in the other bed. The clock on the bedside table read 2:15.

She had to get out of the impossibly warm room, even if it was just for a moment. In her still half-asleep state, Hermione stood and grabbed her purple robe from where it lie discarded on the floor. She then exited the room, taking the room key with her. The witch blinked at the bright yellow lights that ran along the ceiling of the hallway. She closed the door softly, and sat on the ground, back against the wall. Despite being impossibly hot several moments ago, now it was quite the opposite; the robe wasn't enough to prevent the familiar bone-chilling cold that sunk into her body after every nightmare. It was a mixture of horror, exhaustion, and twisted hopelessness that she never managed to get rid of. It was the sort of feeling that left one exhausted and shivering, and that was exactly what Hermione Granger was.

She didn't notice the door to room 42 creak open slowly, as her eyelids were already drooping. She didn't feel the warm arms tuck under her shivering frame, or the key card being slipped from her tight grip. She didn't hear the sleep-deprived voice whisper, "Up you go Granger," She didn't recognize the shift from bright to dark in light tones, and she didn't feel the sheets wrap around her once more.

When morning broke over busy Manhattan, Hermione Granger awoke feeling like she was forgetting something, but for the life of her she could not remember what it was.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N- Thank you to all of those who reviewed/faved/followed. Drop me a line, tell me what you think. _

_Sorry for all the change in POV from this chapter... it's like one in the morning, so please excuse any mistakes as well. I went over the chapter a couple times, so sorry if I missed anything._

Chapter Thirteen

"Malfoy!" A familiar voice cried, distracting Draco from his morning edition of the _New York Times_. He glanced up, staring at the witch in his doorframe.

"What is it this time, Granger? We've been here for a week and I think we've sight-seen quite enough," Draco responded crisply, folding his paper and setting it on the desk. He then proceeded to check his appearance in the mirror, making sure that his hair was combed into place and his shirt was free of wrinkles.

"I've gotten a letter from Zabini," She said excitedly, waving a piece of parchment about, "It arrived just a moment ago, via owl,"

Draco flew to her side, snatching the letter from her grasp before she was done speaking and opening it. On the page, in elegant script, was written;

_McDermitt and Smith,_

_The threat has been obliterated. They are in our care. Go home._

_~B.Z._

"We can go back to Kansas," Was all the blonde said as he handed the letter back to Granger. She frowned at it, tucking it into her jeans pocket.

"Why did he write the letter so… coded? I read somewhere that there are charms around all major American cities to prevent dark objects from going in but other than that the mail security is rather low. Who might intercept our letter?" She asked in that infuriating know-it-all way of hers. Granger's brow was furrowed and her bottom lip clenched between her top teeth.

"Perhaps it was just a precaution," Draco offered, sitting back down in the chair. He ran a hand over his face, "Does it matter?"

"Blaise is loyal to the Order, correct?"

"I don't know, Granger,"

"Are there a lot of Death Eaters in America?"

Draco sighed, rubbing circles on his temples, "Not really, no. Voldemort was only powerful in Europe… the war didn't reach here,"

The brunette sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, "Is he just being cautious?"

"I don't _know,_" Draco sneered, "Now please make yourself useful and go get us plane tickets home,"

Granger huffed and stomped out of the room, slamming the door after her.

X

_He was sitting at a table. His kitchen table at his home in Kansas, with white-washed chairs and a vase with a bundle of wildflowers arranged in a bouquet inside. In front of him was an empty placemat with a fork and knife to either side, as though he was about to eat._

_Suddenly, a large plate was placed in front of him, and it was covered in bacon, strawberries and pancakes drowning in syrup._

"_I hope you're happy," An all too familiar voice stated, and Draco looked up._

_Standing next to him, a red apron around her frame and flour in her hair, was Granger. She smiled, and placed a flour-covered hand on her stomach. Draco noticed that she had gotten rather fat, and he was about to make a snide remark about it when his body acted of its own accord. _

"_Of course I am. I've got a lovely wife and a warm breakfast. What more do I need?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, or process them at all. Draco felt himself leaning forward, and Granger bent to meet him, though inside the blonde was screaming 'NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOO'…. But someone had burst into the kitchen, and Draco was saved._

_It was a small boy of about two, his blonde hair disheveled and his chubby cheeks rosy with delight._

"_Da-da!" He cried, stumbling through the kitchen and towards Draco. He noticed how the child looked exactly like him… but with brown eyes that were too dark to be considered Hermione's shade. They were framed by pale eyelashes that fluttered when the small boy blinked._

"_Hullo Leo," Draco's mouth was moving again, "Up you go?"_

"_Yeah!" So the wizard lifted the child, placing him on his lap. Leo giggled and reached for some of the bacon on Draco's plate._

"_Sweetheart, that's for your father," Granger swept back in like a vulture, holding a spatula, "I'll make you some, ok?"_

"_Okkkkaaaay," Leo responded ruefully, but smiled when footsteps were heard in the hall, "Ronnie!"_

_And in stepped Orion, who looked several years older than he had the last time Draco had seen him. He wore a light blue shirt and jeans, square glasses perching on the bridge of his nose. Under his arm was a text book._

At last, _Draco thought, _someone I can stand.

"_Hey mom, dad," Orion stated, before pulling out one of the chairs and sitting in it. Draco watched as the young boy then opened his book and began to read._

"_Whatcha lookin' at there, Ronnie?" Granger asked gently as she approached the table with another plate in her hand. Orion glanced up and frowned, before reaching for the food._

"_Chemistry,"_

"_Why in the world would you read about that? You told me you wanted to be an Auror, not a chemist," Draco teased lightly, before taking a bite of his bacon. In the dream, it tasted like nothing._

"_I do…. I just wanted to read about it, ok?" Orion shot back, before picking up his place again. Granger rolled her eyes and began to remove her apron._

"_It's all right, Ronnie, nobody was judging you… Draco will you help me with this?" The witch asked, turning her back to him. Not knowing what she meant, Draco froze. However, his fingers obviously understood, and they began to undo the knot that held it together._

_Granger slipped out of the garment, and moved to hang it up on a small peg next to the refrigerator. Draco, however, was transfixed by the small bump under her black shirt. The rest of her looked evenly proportioned but her stomach was… her stomach was swollen. Almost as if she were…_

_Of course. Draco looked down at his left hand. On his ring finger was a simple gold band, contrasting severely with his pale skin. He couldn't breathe. Granger and he had gotten married…. And hand another child! And, by the looks of things, they were going to have a third._

Draco awoke in a cold sweat, his eyes looking about the dark hotel room frantically. _Relax, _he told himself, _it was just a dream…_

Something about it, however, felt all too real for Draco's liking.

X

"Hey Granger,"

Hermione groaned and shifted to another row of books, searching for one that looked interesting.

"Pssst Granger,"

The brunette wandered to the horror section, where books with disturbing images on the covers sent chills down her spine.

"Graaanger…."

Hermione picked one up, a novel she had not read in a long time_; Pet Sematery_. She opened it up, and began reading.

"Oi, Granger—"

Spinning around, Hermione was met with the source of the nuisance—Draco Malfoy.

"What do you want," She responded, walking calmly over to the bored-looking cashier behind the counter in the airport's bookstore. She handed him the book and opened up her purse, searching for her wallet.

"Does anyone in your family have dark brown eyes? Not like your shade, but a couple darker?"

Book in bag, Hermione turned to glare at Malfoy.

"What kind of question is that?" She snapped, thanking the cashier and collecting Orion from where he was sitting in the children's section.

"Are you going to answer or not?"

"Yes," Hermione said curtly, "My father did. Why?"

"No reason," Malfoy stared into the distance and whistled uncharacteristically, which nearly made Hermione rip her hair out.

X

Draco sat back in the airplane seat, struggling to get comfortable. He was confused and somewhat tired, and was not in the mood for another couple hours of endless kicking from another brat behind him.

"Good morning, sir, what can I get for you?" A red haired flight attendant asked as she rolled her cart up, displaying the food that was available. She leant forward a bit too far, exposing her chest.

"Just some…" Draco was about to ask for water, when the woman leant closer and, much to the blonde's disgust, reached across his body to set down his tray.

"There you go, sir," She fluttered her mascara-coated eyelashes at him, before removing herself from him, "Now what would you like? I can give you several options,"

Draco, sneering, looked about the airplane, before turning to face the desperate girl once more, "You know… I do want something from you," The girl pursed her lips and lidded her eyes, probably thinking that it made her look sexy, "I want you… to go over to that man," He commanded in a falsely seductive tone, pointing to a slightly overweight man in kakis sitting a few rows up, "And do what you've just done to me. I think he's more… in your league, don't you think? Even I have standards," Draco smirked at the expression that came over the red-head's face; it was a mixture of anger and despair.

"Alright. Good to know that you don't want anything sir," She stated, before pushing the cart down the aisle more.

When Granger and Orion got back from the restroom, Granger asked why the red-haired flight attendant was shooting him dirty looks. Draco merely shrugged.

X

"The name of your book is spelled wrong," Malfoy pointed out about ten minutes into their flight. Hermione rolled her eyes and marked her page, before closing it and looking at the blonde prick next to her.

"It's supposed to be that way," She said, opening her book to continue reading.

Unfortunately, it didn't turn out as planned.

"But why?" Malfoy asked, scowling, "What kind of stupid author would purposefully misspell things?"

Hermione sighed. This was going to be more difficult than she'd thought, "Well, in the story there's a place called the 'Pet Sematery' and… you know what," She grinned viciously, thinking of how Malfoy probably wasn't acquainted with muggle literature, especially of the Stephen King variety, "Why don't you read it yourself?"

"Ok," Malfoy took the book from her, and, disregarding her bookmark, began to read.

X

"So you're telling me that Louis was crazy? But he saw all those things in the woods, Granger!" Draco argued as they drove through town, the topic of their discussions being the book he'd just finished.

"Yeah, but that's the thing," Granger countered, smiling, "We don't know if it was just in his mind or if it actually happened,"

Draco grumbled and continued down the road, taking a left turn that would get him to Madam Quincie's.

"I just don't understand why the book is called 'Pet Sematery'. They don't even talk about it! It should've been called 'Creepy Burial Ground Place That Brings People Back to Life',"

Granger laughed as Draco continued to rant.

"I mean, seriously. And what the hell was with the wife's sister. With her creepy claw-hands and 'Oz the Great and Tewwible'… what does that even mean? Where is 'Oz'?"

Granger gasped.

"You've never seen the Wizard of Oz?"

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Draco couldn't think of where he'd heard it before.

"Erm… no. Why?"

"You're a sad, sad person Draco Malfoy. Never even seen the Wizard of Oz, my God… You know what," Granger announced as they approached the boarding house, "I am going to make you watch it. One of the greatest musicals of all time and you haven't even seen it, my Lord…"

"Alright, alright, I'll watch it with you Granger!" He relented, rolling his eyes.

"Good, Draco," She retorted, "Because you've been missing out—"

"Did you just call me Draco?" The blonde inquired incredulously, staring down at the witch. She nodded and Draco asked, "Why?"

"Because it's your name," She said simply with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Anyways, Hermione, here we are,"

Hermione looked up at him with a smile that could've lit the whole town.

That was the first time that Draco Malfoy realized that Hermione Granger was his friend.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N- This is such a filler and it kills me BUT there will be revelations in the next chapter. I'm finally getting to my favorite parts of this story!_

_Thanks for the reviews (and favs. and follows) :) _

Chapter Fourteen

"Good morning Andrew," Hermione said kindly to the blonde behind the counter. He startled and glanced up, smiling when he realized who it was.

"Hey Julia. How was New York?"

Hermione shifted next to him, thinking about the previous week. Her and Malfoy… _Draco _(it was weird to think of his first name after so long of spiteful surname calling) had grown closer. They had an understanding of sorts, which was better than nothing at all. They had both matured since school, plus they had Orion to think about. If he saw his two major role models arguing (Yes, Draco was his a major role model of her son's. Hermione had admitted that much to herself). The two had bickered, but they had also joked. New York was not as terrible as she had thought it would be.

Realizing that Andrew was still waiting for her answer, Hermione hastily replied, "Good, good. Sorry I had to take time off work so early I just… got an invitation to… to my cousin's wedding. It was rather last minute, but she and I were close as children and I wouldn't miss it for the world,"

Andrew fiddled with a small keychain on the counter.

"That sounds fun…" He said, turning to her suddenly, "You want to get coffee after work?"

Hermione blinked several times, confused at the change of topic. Was Andrew… was he asking her out? Why? She was altogether too thin and had about as much sex appeal as a beached whale. It was obvious that he had been waiting to say that since she'd said 'hello', however, and he seemed genuine.

"Er…." She twiddled her thumbs, before looking back at her sincere-looking co-worker. He was staring hopefully at her, his eyes wide. Hermione took a deep breath. It was just coffee… nothing major. She could do coffee without mention of her horrendous past, child she had when she was still in her teens or magic, Hermione was certain.

"Of course Andrew," She replied finally, moving away from him as a customer approached the counter, a load of books piled up in his hands, "Coffee sounds great,"

X

Draco played with the packet of sugar on the table, waiting for his food. He took an idle sip of his water (muggle sodas were… disgusting) and continued to rip small tears in the pink paper package. His first day back at work had been relatively uninteresting. Mr. Linney had been kind and understanding about the vacation. Draco rarely took days off, and it was a slow month. Sasha had flaunted herself and pouted when Draco had snapped at her that he was busy doing paperwork. She was beginning to get on his nerves, even though he had believed her to be an easy conquest in the beginning. It wasn't much of a challenge at all if she just threw herself at him.

The blonde had never cared about that before though, so why now? What changed him?

Finding it unbearable to think of, Draco took another sip of his drink, setting the mutilated sugar packet down. Just then the waitress arrived with his salad and fillet he had ordered. He thanked her, eating quickly without thinking of Sasha again. His mind wandered to Granger, of her struggle with the Death Eaters. He still didn't know what exactly she'd been through, but it was definitely scarring. This made his throat feel uncomfortably tight, so Draco pushed that thought away as well.

Suddenly, a brunette from another table stood up and, without warning, strode right over to his table.

"May I sit here?" She tapped the seat across from Draco. He nodded, and she plopped down.

"I'm sorry to intrude on your lunch, but my friend over there," She gestured with her thumb to a giggling blonde a few tables over, "Told me that if I didn't come and talk to you she would pour ketchup in my soda,"

Draco raised his eyebrows, "So?" He drawled.

"I'm Lindsey, by the way, I work in the doctor's office on Reilder Street,"

"That's near where I work, actually," Draco commented idly.

"I know," Lindsey flushed pink, "See I've seen you about, and I might've mentioned to Brittany, my friend, that I thought you were attractive. So she said that I had to come and give it a shot. You're Evan McDermitt, right?"

Draco nodded slowly, admiring her gutsiness. It took a lot to walk up to a stranger and admit that you found them nice to look at.

"Sorry, it's such a small town. Anyways, I was just wondering if… perhaps…"

"You know what, Lindsey? Allow _me_ to ask _you_. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Lindsey was rather attractive, with brown hair and bright blue eyes. She seemed interesting to talk to and besides, Draco needed someone to keep his mind off the nightmares he'd been having as of late. He didn't just need, he _craved_ something to distract him, something in the form of a woman.

"At the bar on Main Street, to be specific. About eight o'clock. Does that work for you?"

Lindsey looked taken aback. Suddenly, a very warm smile came across her features, settling there, "Yeah. That works. Here's my phone number," She wrote it on the back of a scrap of paper she found in her wallet. Draco took it, tucking it into his pocket.

It felt good to be back in town.

X

"So tell me, Julia, where did you go to school as a child?"

Hermione paused, swirling the milk in her coffee cup. They were in the coffee shop across from the bookstore, which was owned by Andrew's sister. It seemed that they had quite a family monopoly in town.

"I grew up just outside of London, and I went to a simple primary school. It wasn't anything fancy really," Hermione said idly, glancing outside, "I was the smartest girl in my year, and all the children were cruel to me because of it," _Oh what she wouldn't do to get those days back._

Andrew frowned, biting his bottom lip, "Kids can be very mean,"

Thinking of how Draco Malfoy was so rude to her in school, Hermione chuckled darkly, "Yes, they can be,"

"Anyways, I was eleven when I went to a boarding school in Scotland. It was where I made my first true friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,"

At the mention of her late friends, Hermione felt tears gather in her eyes. Why had she even brought them up? She stared intently into her coffee, not wanting Andrew to see. She had _told_ herself she wouldn't talk about her past, especially on such a casual date as this. But it was inevitable, because besides books Hermione didn't have much else to talk of.

"Julia? Are you alright?" Andrew took one of her hands in his. The brunette tried to nod but her chin trembled.

"I'm sorry, it's just that… Harry died when he was just seventeen and Ron was my first love. I… I guess I miss them," She shrugged, taking a deep breath to calm herself, "So what about you? What was your childhood like?"

Andrew smiled and dove into stories about his high school days.

"And our senior prank was hilarious, Julia. Part of it was before graduation when we froze Mentos in ice cubes and during the after party, people's drinks were exploding left and right. We were pranksters. I gave my ex-girlfriend glue disguised as chap stick. She was surprised to say the least," Hermione wasn't sure what to think of this bit of information. On one hand, Andrew's jokes seemed somewhat juvenile and rude, but then again, he reminded her a lot of Fred and George Weasley. Hermione hadn't classified their pranks as particularly terrible, so she decided that it was no big deal.

Hermione also learned that Andrew had gone to college for several years at Fort Hays State University, and had been planning on moving out of town, but his uncle had offered him the shop to run when he eventually died. So Andrew had begun working there instead, using what little money he had saved up to buy a small, one floor house just outside of town.

"I stopped being such a silly frat boy and got serious with my life. Now I'm so busy being assistant manager that I barely have time to worry about anything else anymore. I know that working at a bookshop might seem like an easy job, but my uncle gives me so many things to keep track of that it's actually quite time consuming,"

As Hermione finished off the last bit of her coffee, she realized that the date had been very carefree. It wasn't tense or upsetting, besides the bit about her friends. It was enjoyable, something that the witch hadn't expected. She hadn't exactly trust men (or anyone for that matter) after what she'd been through.

"Did you go to a university?" Andrew asked suddenly, swirling what was left of his now cold coffee about in the cup. Hermione shook her head, thinking of how she'd been imprisoned during the time which she should've been attending school.

"Not exactly," An awkward silence descended upon the pair.

"So have you seen the town hall?"

Hermione smiled, thankful at the change of topic, "No. Are you trying to make a second date with me, Mr. Williams?"

The blonde smiled ruefully, "Well I would like a second date with you, Ms. Smith, but I don't think a trip to town hall would be very interesting,"

Hermione glanced at her watch, and realized that it was nearly five in the afternoon.

"It's getting late," She commented.

Andrew nodded, pushing back from the table, "Yeah, it is. Do you want me to drive you home? I know that Madam Quincie usually picks you up but she had to go into Colorado to visit family today and—"

"I know," Hermione cut into his nervous prattle, "I live in the boarding house remember?"

The man across her flushed, glancing down, "Right. Sorry,"

"I've arranged my own transport home, but thank you for offering. I had a great time,"

They shared a bit of a heated look, but neither made a move to lean in for contact of any kind. Andrew cleared his throat and they both exited the coffee shop. Hermione was met with a blast of warm summer air, and the breeze blew her hair in front of her face, obstructing her view for a moment. When it settled down again, Hermione spotted a white pickup roaring down the otherwise empty road.

It screeched to a stop in front of the duo, and the window rolled down.

"Hurry up, _Julia_," Malfoy commanded, his usually immaculate blonde hair slightly ruffled by the gentle wind, "I've got a date tonight,"

Hermione blinked in surprised, before nodding and turning to Andrew, "Well Andrew, it was lovely having coffee with you. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Right. By Julia," Andrew waved as she walked around the passenger side of the car, opening the door.

Once she was safely in the truck, Malfoy sped off, leaving Andrew in the dust.

"You had coffee with him?" He sneered, staring at the road in front of him. It was a dreary day, with dark grey clouds threatening to spill at any second.

"Yes," Hermione sniffed, pursing her lips angrily, "Not that it's any of your business, Mr. 'I've got a date tonight',"

"Well I do. And I actually know her name, it's Lindsey. She's a highly intelligent woman who works in the doctor's office near where I work. She's not the kind I usually date, you know,"

"Who do you usually date?" Hermione rolled her eyes, examining her nails.

"Sleazy, stupid and ready for a one nighter," Mafloy wriggled his eyebrows at her.

"That's vulgar,"

The car fell into silence until they passed by a fireworks stand, its signs advertising various sizes and types of explosives. Draco made a U-turn, pulling into the nearly empty lot.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked sharply, folding her arms in front of her. The blonde shot her a sideways look before unlocking the car doors.

"Getting Madam Quincie some more fireworks. She asked me to pick some up for tomorrow,"

"What's tomorrow?" Hermione questioned, getting out with Draco. He gave her another look that made her feel quite stupid, before approaching the fireworks stand.

"The Fourth of July. God Granger, and you call yourself intelligent,"

Hermione huffed in indignation and fiddled with a brightly-colored firework, "It's not the Fourth yet is it? It can't be,"

"Well it is. Get ready for a whole night of headaches," He responded, picking out a package of various fireworks, "It'll be _fun_,"

Hermione got back in the pickup, staring intently out the window, "Fireworks blow people's fingers off. They're much too dangerous. If you just look up the reported cases of injuries due to—"

"And there's the real Granger, in her truest form. I was waiting for her to appear," Malfoy joked easily, turning into the boarding house's driveway.

"Oh shove it, Malfoy,"

"Back to last names I see, Granger,"

Hermione stormed out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Before she could escape fully into the house, Draco called out to her from the open window, "You know you love me, Granger!"

The brunette cupped her hands around her mouth, smiling, "In your dreams, Malfoy!"


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N- I must say, this is my favorite chapter in this fic so far... *wipes tear from eye* It's just so beautiful! _

_Disclaimer- I'm not sure why I even bother with these things. _

Chapter Fifteen

"So a little birdie told me that you were going to have fireworks tomorrow night," Hermione lounged against the kitchen counter, assisting Madam Quincie in preparing dinner. The enticing scent of tomato sauce wafted up from the pot, and the brunette stirred it without thinking.

"I guess Evan revealed the party I was planning on having," The older woman suggested, sprinkling a bit of shredded cheese into the pasta, "I suppose you and Orion can come," She winked playfully.

Hermione stirred the sauce again, eyes down. She did not want to be intrusive on Madam Quincie and her plans, "I… I wasn't implying that you should, I was merely mentioning it in conver—"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Madam Quincie replied gently, wiping her hands on her apron, "Julia, you are now a member of this household, which means that you are invited to every party held in this house unless stated otherwise,"

Hermione looked into the faded blue eyes of the generous woman, and was reminded of her mother. Her mother, who used to look at her like that, sincere and loving. Her mother, who had no clue that she even had a daughter. Her mother, who was in Australia.

"Julia? Are you alright? You're crying," Madam Quincie asked, taking one of Hermione's hands in both of her weathered ones. She tugged them away, touching her face. When she removed it her fingers were wet with salty tears.

"I… thank you," The witch choked before turning and fleeing the room, memories of innocent days gone by swimming at the forefront of her mind.

X

Draco sighed, tapping his feet. He had arrived at the restaurant _fashionably _late, which was only about ten minutes into the date, and discovered that Lindsey was nowhere to be found. He'd asked the sour-looking hostess if she'd booked a table under that name and the woman had shook her head ruefully. So here he was, nearly an hour into the supposed-to-be date, and Draco was slowly drinking himself into a stupor. He took another careful sip of the drink, unsure of what he'd even ordered in the first place. He couldn't remember, and he didn't care to.

To be honest, Draco had never been stood up. It was quite an odd experience for him really, not having the woman of his choice drooling all over him. He had charm goddammit, and he wanted to use it! Instead he was sitting alone in a booth drinking his way into oblivion.

What a terrible way to waste an evening.

"If only father could see me now," The blonde spit out bitterly, finishing off the amber liquid in his glass. He slammed it onto the wood table, satisfied with the clunk that resounded about the nearly empty restaurant.

"Yeah, if only he could," A familiar voice spoke from above him. Draco glanced to the side, frowning when he realized who it was.

"Blaise. Thought you were supposed to be in good ol' Britian mate,"

The dark-skinned man shrugged carelessly, taking a seat across from his friend, "Well, I decided to come back. Britain's a mess that I do not need to be in right now. Besides, I wanted to see you,"

"Oh?" Draco responded, flagging over a waiter, "Get me another," He commanded, giving over the glass.

"What sort of news?" The blonde asked, after the waiter had left.

Blaise shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Draco took this as a bad sign, "The sort of news that will make you want to whip out your wand and hex me into the netherworld,"

Draco nodded slowly, motioning for Blaise to continue.

"Now that nearly all of the Death Eaters are in custody, we've only got a few that are still missing to round up. After good old Voldie was killed by Granger, many of them fled Malfoy Manor, knowing their fate would be Azkaban once the Aurors and the Order were tipped off that Voldemort was dead. Several of the Death Eaters the Order's still looking for are Nott Jr.," Draco shuddered, remembering Theo from school. He'd always been so quiet, "Crabbe Sr., Lestrange, _you_, though we don't really care too much because you were just a teenager when you started and went AWOL years ago, and… well, this is the one that you're going to kill me for… your father,"

Draco felt his jaw go slack. His madman, muggle-hater of a father was on the loose… The blonde wanted to throw up, shout, demand for more information, faint, scream and jump off a cliff at that moment. It was a feeling that was what Draco speculated getting hit with a train would feel like.

"Holy... Why? Why couldn't you round him up?" Draco hissed, leaning forward to glare at Blaise, "Of all the people…"

"That's not even the worse bit…" Blaise put up a poker face, something that he'd mastered at Hogwarts, "Word is that he's hunting down Granger for revenge,"

Draco groaned, slamming his head into the table. Several people glanced his way, but he ignored them. This was _bad_. A group of vengeful Death Eaters without rhyme or reason that were being led off track and into Brazil was different. But Draco's father was smart… smarter than many people speculated. And he knew how to manipulate people into telling him things.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiit," He groaned, releasing some of his anger into the expletive, "Why does this only ever happen to me?"

Blaise made a small noise in the back of his throat, "It's not you that it's happening to, Draco, it's Granger. You can hightail your way out of here if you'd like. I think I'd understand. That's what you did after the Battle of Hogwarts, didn't you? Ran away from your problems like a scared little girl—"

The blonde head shot up, the face attached twisted with fury, "Too far, Blaise. Shall we go into _your _personal problems? Daddy died years ago so you're left alone with mummy, who killed all of your _precious_ step daddies, most of which were abusive in more ways than one—"

The Italian grabbed Draco's wrist, squeezing it so hard that the fingers attached lost blood flow, "You never did lose that snippy Slytherin edge of yours, did you Draco?" Blaise removed his hand from his friend's wrist, settling back into his seat.

Draco closed his eyes, thinking over what Blaise had said. He could still skip town at this point in time, run off to Canada or China or South Africa. He could leave Granger to her own devices. It did sound nice, no matter the strange friendship they'd developed over the New York trip. Draco would be free to do whatever he pleased, without fear of his father and the trouble he brought.

But with Granger there was Orion. Dear, precious Orion, with his Malfoy hair and Granger brains. The very thought of anyone hurting the boy made Draco's blood boil, white-hot anger surging through his veins. And if for that reason alone, he was not going to abandon them, Granger and Orion. They were a package deal.

They could all move somewhere else together, but their current situation was just fine. Draco had a steady job, as did Granger. They each had housing situations of their own, friends too, and it was difficult to leave that. Draco, knew, he'd done it once before.

Besides, they lived in a somewhat reclusive area, without interaction with other wizards, besides Blaise. They were safe… they _were._

Not entirely convinced by his own thoughts, Draco responded vaguely to Blaise, "I'll be fine here, thanks,"

The Italian said nothing, eyebrows raised and lips pursed slightly. It was then that the drink arrived at last, which interrupted the stony silence that had fallen upon the pair.

X

_"You've been a very bad boy, Orion,"_

_The scary man with long hair glared down at the boy, eyes squinting so nothing but the dark grey color was showing. Orion shivered, terrified._

_"Sneaking into the library…" The man made a soft 'tut' noise with his tongue, "You don't deserve those books, you piece of halfblood filth. That's all you are, filth," _

_Orion felt his chin begin to tremble, wishing that his mummy would come in and save him. He wanted his mummy._

_"You little piece of shit," Orion's whole body was shaking now, "You are nothing,"_

_And Orion began to believe it. The way people were always mean to him meant he was unimportant, irrelevant. He was not worthy of love. The only person who loved him was mummy. Why didn't these people love him? Why did only mummy love him? Was he that bad, that no one wanted to be around him?_

_Slowly, the scary man removed his belt, approaching Orion with a cruel grin on his face. The child shrunk back into the corner of the dimly-lit room, burying his face in his hands. _

_"Pl-Please d-don't h-hurt m-me!" He stuttered, fear clenching his heart tight and holding it, "I'll do an-anything!"_

_The man's footsteps stopped. Then, slowly, he said, "Anything, huh? Well, I have a good job for you, boy,"_

_Orion glanced up. The man's face looked nearly inhuman now; twisted with disgust, "I need to write a letter to your mother that I think she will… enjoy reading, and I need your assistance. Stand!" He barked, and Orion did as he commanded._

_"Now go sit at that desk," Orion did, sitting in the stiff wooden chair. His legs dangled high above the ground, but he resisted the urge to swing them about carelessly. This place, the dark place, was not a place for fun._

_"I'll be back boy. Move and your punishment shall double,"_

_It could've been seconds or hours before the man came back. Orion couldn't keep track of time, and he was trying not to squirm too much. He'd get in trouble._

_"Alright," The voice startled him. Orion watched as a piece of parchment and a quill were placed in front of him, "Now I want you to write these words on there, over and over. You want to learn so much, boy, learn what you are, you miserable child, learn your place in this world,"_

_Another, smaller piece of paper was set down. Orion read, somewhat slowly as he'd just learned recently, the words 'Halfblood Filth'. Orion picked up the quill, trying to stop his hand from shaking. The man would notice._

_Thinking that the scary man had forgotten ink and would realize that once nothing was coming from the quill Orion began to trace out the letters. However, he realized that the shaky line of the 'H' did in fact appear. It was also red._

_A sharp pain came from Orion's left hand. He gasped and glanced down. The skin was irritated there, a blotchy red._

_"Continue," The scary man commanded sharply. Orion nodded and didn't stop until the man told him to. At that point his left hand was bleeding profusely and the parchment was full. _

_"We'll keep going tomorrow. Stay in here and think of what you've done," The scary man picked up the parchment and quill, leaving the room. With the door locked, Orion could not get out. Instead, he curled up on the stone-cold ground and sobbed._

Orion awoke, glancing about the darkened room. He shuddered, and pressed closer to his mommy. She was fitful, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks. The child reached up and brushed them away before cuddling up to her, shifting underneath the covers.

"I'll keep you safe, mommy," He whispered, before drifting into a dreamless slumber.

X

The Fourth of July dawned bright and early, with birds chirping and the sky a blessed blue hue. Hermione rolled over and stretched lazily, wanting nothing more than to settle back under the covers and sleep for several more hours. It was nearly eight thirty though and she needed to shower before getting breakfast. Orion was gone, but she knew he was reading in the study with Mr. Xaing, a habit that he'd picked up after their trip to New York.

She got dressed quickly in a T-shirt and jeans, walking down the steps calmly to the awaiting breakfast.

"Happy Fourth! Celebrating America's independence since 1776!" Mrs. Anderson exclaimed as soon as Hermione entered the kitchen. She smiled and rose a hand.

"Hear, hear! When your country separated from my country!"

Everyone was silent, staring intently at the arm Hermione had raised. She frowned and slowly lowered it, eyes flickering about the various boarders.

"It was just a joke," She muttered defensively, before moving to sit down.

"What was that on your arm?"

Oh.

The writing was older, not something that was thought about often. It was covered by other, newer scars, but the pale white writing was still highly visible.

Mudblood.

"Nothing… just a scar…" She assured swiftly, sitting next to Mrs. Anderson. The young woman looked ready to argue but the phone rang.

"Hello?" Madam Quincie answered, "Yes she's here but I doubt that… well, Benjamin, I doubt that she'll want to speak to… fine!" The woman had gotten herself in quite a huff, turning about and speaking in a curt tone, "Lucy, it's for you,"

Mrs. Anderson- _Lucy_, Hermione corrected herself- got up and took the telephone. She spoke in hushed tones to the person on the other line. People at the table began to talk again, picking up food and placing it on their plates. Hermione, however, was not hungry anymore.

Suddenly, a violent shout came from Mrs. Anderson across the room, "Well I don't want to spend time with you, you CHEATING BASTARD!" She slammed the phone down and rushed from the room, leaving another silent spell in her wake.

"Who…" Hermione turned to Madam Quincie, who was staring sympathetically after the young woman who'd fled the kitchen.

"We all have secrets, Julia," Madam Quincie stated gently, turning to her, "For instance your scars. Where did you get them? Or your nightmares, where do those originate? The fact that you and Evan have the same exact tattoo is another. But you don't need to answer those questions unless you want to. I asked Lucy and she told me. If she wants to tell you about her past, she will have to speak to you herself. They are not my secrets to tell,"

And with that, the old woman got up and went to the sliding glass doors, opening it.

"It's a great day for gardening. I do hope the strawberries taste ok, I picked them myself," She said pleasantly, stepping into the sunlight.

"She reminds me of Dumbledore… it's scary," Hermione mumbled to no one in particular.

X

Evening approached at a rapid pace. Draco, who'd arrived at Madam Quincie's Fourth of July party with Blaise, was incredibly bored. Blaise had broken away quickly, opting to go flirt with Mrs. Anderson, who looked very, very peeved off. Sasha, who'd been invited by Madam Quincie (_"We need to make everyone who's new in town feel welcome, Evan!"_) was acting strange. She'd approached Draco at the beginning of the party, but had decided to take a smoke in the woods before the fireworks started. She had resurfaced from the trees half an hour later, and had been avoiding Draco ever since.

"Well good riddance," He muttered under his breath, staring at the brunette. She was mingling about with Blaise and Mrs. Anderson now, occasionally taking swigs of liquid from a flask.

Draco sighed, moving to sit in a lawn chair that had been set out. Someone plopped down next to him, and the blonde turned. Grey met brown.

"Hey Malfoy. Enjoying the wonderful food and lovely drinks?" Granger teased, holding up a plate with a hot dog drenched in ketchup and a red solo cup. Draco smirked and took a small sip of his water.

"What, back to last names? Should I be offended, Ms. Granger?"

The brunette rolled her eyes, picking the hot dog off her plate. She proceeded to take a huge bite of it, chewing vigorously.

"What I wouldn't give for tea and crumpets right now!" She said once the food was swallowed. Draco smirked, noticing that a single blob of ketchup remained on the edge of her mouth.

"Hey Granger, look at me?" She did curiously, an eyebrow quirked. Without asking permission, Draco reached out and swiped the ketchup off her cheek with his finger. Hermione looked mortified, her face flushing a light shade of pink. Draco, having nowhere to put the ketchup, stuck his finger in his mouth and swallowed.

"UGGG! That was on my MOUTH!" She pushed his shoulder playfully, earning a smile in return. The blonde quickly wiped it off his face, replacing it with a smirk instead.

"I'm aware, but as I did not want to ruin my shorts with a ketchup stain…" Draco gestured to his spotless jeans, "It was my only option you know,"

"Mummy, Madam Quincie's gonna start the fireworks soon!" Orion exclaimed, interrupting their conversation. The boy jumped into his mother's lap, disregarding the half empty plate that sat there. It went flying, hot dog and all, into the grass about five feet away.

"Sorry mummy," Orion whispered, hanging his head. Hermione, overwhelmed with laughter, nodded that it was ok.

Just then, the whining of a firecracker rising into the sky filled the air. It exploded into bursts of color, followed by popping sounds. Orion covered his ears, frowning.

Draco sat back, watching as the sky turned from a dusky blue to black. Fireworks lit up the skies, with colors ranging from white to blue. Many of the children were playing with sparklers, the tiny lights on the ends fizzling while waved in the air. For the first time in a while, Draco felt… _light. _Like he was a cloud, floating through the world without a care.

It felt nice.

The blonde felt his eyes slipping to the woman next to him. She wasn't looking back, instead she was talking to Orion while rapidly glancing at the sky. Granger's nose was slightly crooked. Her eyes were a bit large for her somewhat thin face. Her hair was just as unmanageable as ever. But in that moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was the way her deep, honey eyes would look at Orion with such a strong look of love that it made Draco's heart ache. Her smile would transform those hollow cheeks into a brilliant mess of dimples and soft-looking skin. Her legs would cross and uncross time and time again, ankles overlapping. And as he studied her, Draco realized something.

Hermione Granger was beautiful.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N- No Draco/Hermione interaction in this chapter... but it's got plenty of plot development to make up for it. I also wanted to expand the roles of several characters that will be important later in the story._

_As always, thanks for the reviews! _

Chapter Sixteen

While Draco Malfoy was admiring Hermione Granger, and Blaise Zabini was flirting aimlessly with Lucinda Anderson, and Sasha Bradely was drinking from her flask, a plan was being put together by two people in a pub more than a thousand miles away.

"_Muggles,_" The man spat out, tossing the beer bottle away from him in disgust, "This drink tastes like monkey piss,"

The woman, face hidden by a dark cloak, cackled wildly. The sound was lost in the loud shouts coming from the fight by the bar. The pub was grimy and moldy, the sort of place one might stumble upon while already drunk at one in the morning. The pub held all sorts of people; those who did not want to be seen, those who wanted desperately to drown their troubles, those looking for a good time, prostitutes, the homeless, and everybody in between. It was tucked away in between a hardware store and a bankrupt bookshop. The sign was missing so many letters that the name was forgotten. When thought about, it was actually quite sad.

"And how would you know what that tastes like?" The woman picked up the bottle, taking a sniff at it, "It smells god-awful too. How do these _animals_ cope?"

A drunkard passed the table, stumbling into the wall before sliding to the floor. He proceeded to lean over and vomit profusely.

The man glared down at the man on the ground like he'd been personally wronged by him. Pushing his hair from his shoulders with a hand in a regal fashion, the man sitting's lip curled, "Vile,"

"Can't I torture him just this _once_? I won't kill him, I promise!" The woman begged crazily, reaching for her company's hand. Jerking backwards, the hands were tucked under the table neatly, preventing her from touching them.

"No, Bella, you cannot. We agreed to keep a low profile, or has that slipped your mind as well?"

The woman, Bella, narrowed her eyes and pouted like a child, "You are acting ridiculous. Everything has been put into play—"

"Not just yet," The man interrupted coldly, "We still have much to do until our goal has been reached. But, seeing as we are ahead of schedule, I've gotten you a play thing. Come with me,"

Without a word they turned and ascended the stairs to the rooms above the pub, which were available for those who needed a place to sleep for a night or two. The man stopped at the one at the far end of the hall, causing the woman to slam into his back. Pulling out a key, the door swung open.

Cowering in the corner was a young woman with deep brown hair and a dazed expression on her face. She was glancing about nervously, arms wrapped around her thin torso. Upon seeing the man and woman in the doorframe she shifted further into the wall, as if she wished they would swallow her whole.

"P-please d-don't hurt m-me…" She positively trembled. The woman laughed, brandishing a thin stick from inside her black cloak.

The door shut with a soft click.

Whispering something unintelligible the woman removed her hood, releasing her mess of black hair. Her high heels clicked sharply on the floorboards. The man leant against the wall, the ghost of a smirk making its way onto his face.

"We're going to have so much fun, aren't we?" The woman whispered, dropping to her knees and grabbing the girl's chin roughly. She stood, pointing the stick at the girl.

"_Crucio,_"

X

Lindsey stood in front of Evan's office, nervously twirling a strand of her hair. She needed to make amends with the British man and (hopefully) get a second chance. She'd talked with her friend Kendra the previous evening and she'd confessed that she thought Evan was unforgiving and cold. However Lindsey saw something inside of him, something deeper. She wanted to apologize for her flakey behavior and explain herself.

Knocking on the door, Lindsey opened it without waiting for an answer.

Evan was sitting behind his desk, reading something with a frown on his face. The desk across the room was empty.

Perfect.

Evan glanced up, raising an eyebrow when he noticed her standing there. His face remained unmoving, revealing no emotion.

"Hey," Lindsey spoke tentatively, moving cloer to Evan's desk. His grey eyes pierced hers, and she almost melted into a puddle of Lindsey-stew. Why were the most attractive men always the ones she managed to screw up on?

"Hello," He responded, reaching for the book again.

"I wanted to talk to you,"

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Evan raised an eyebrow.

"What about?"

_How is he so calm? It's not humanly possible to remain that stoic, that uncaring! _

The young woman took a deep, steadying breath, "About our date," Beat, "And why I didn't show up,"

Evan turned and shifted through some papers lying on his desk, ignoring her. Lindsey felt foolish, coming here to speak to him. He was obviously busy and didn't want to speak with her. However, she couldn't help but feel hopeful when he opened his mouth to speak.

"I never said you couldn't tell me,"

Just like that. Simple. Eloquent. Somewhat cold, but also, oddly… _warm._

Without taking her eyes off Evan, who was looking up at her with an intense expression on his face, Lindsey recalled, "After I got home that day we had our discussion, my mother called," _Stop, don't you dare cry, Lindsey… _"She… she said that… that… that my Grandmother, who had been terminally ill with lung cancer… had passed on…"

Evan still hadn't moved.

"I just wanted to apologize for not coming to the date… my Grandma and I were really close…"

And then Evan, distant, handsome Evan, stood. He didn't touch her, just stared down into her eyes. There was a long moment in which she thought that he wasn't breathing at all, but he cracked a small, sympathetic smile just for her.

"I understand,"

X

"Benjamin,"

Ben Anderson grimaced at the surprised woman in the doorframe. He shuffled his feet, trying to shake off her inquisitive look. His intentions were quite clear, as a suitcase was in one hand and a manila folder packed full of papers in the other. Madam Quincie raised an eyebrow at him, which only caused more wrinkles to form in her forehead.

"I see you've repainted the sign. It looks good,"

Madam Quincie crossed her arms, not that it made a difference in her stature. She was still petite, elderly and frail; the complete opposite of intimidating.

"Lucy doesn't want to see you," She stated blandly, leaning against the white-washed door molding, "So I suggest you high tail your way outta' here, and I don't have to mention this visit to her,"

Benjamin nodded slowly, fury bubbling up inside him like boiling-hot water, "I thought she wanted a divorce,"

"I do,"

And there she was, glaring at him from across the flowerbeds. Her blonde hair was tied up into a high ponytail, her skin kissed by the sun, her eyes shining up from her face like pieces of the sky trapped beneath the dark lashes. Unfortunately, she was positively glowering at him.

"Lucy, I didn't know you were out here—" Madam Quincie spoke up, sounding nervous and apologetic.

Lucy turned to the older woman, smiling in a way that made her, in actuality, look very nasty, "It's all right, I understand. I wouldn't want this bastard on my property either, if I were you—"

"Mummy says that's a bad woooooord," Came the sing-songy voice that can only belong to a child. There, on the porch swing, was a small blonde child. He was a bit on the skinny side, with knobby knees and awkward, fresh-out-of-the-toddler-stage features. He was frowning at Lucy, who had the decency to flush a light pink color.

"Orion, honey, why don't you go inside?" Madam Quincie suggested, moving away from the door so the boy could go in. He didn't, choosing to stick up his nose in defiance.

"You're a meanie,"

"That's lovely dear, now if you would please go inside…" Madam Quincie said lightly, challenging the child. Begrudgingly he stood, storming into the house.

Before the door was shut, however, there was a loud shout of, "My daddy will hear about this!"

X

_"Malfoy," _

"ACCCCCCCCCCCKKKK!" Draco screamed, his head shooting straight up. Sasha, who was sitting in her chair across the room, shot him an odd glance before returning to her work. The wizard rolled his shoulders back, attempting to get the kink out of his neck by moving his head back and forth. His dreams had gotten stranger and stranger, and no matter what he was going to get to the bottom of them.

_But for now, there's paperwork to be done._

Draco sighed, reaching for his pen. The one thing he couldn't get out of his head was the sound of _that _voice saying his name softly, gently, teasing but tender. It was unnerving, disturbing, all-out odd. Because it was no random tone, _no_ it was someone he knew, it was a familiar sound to his subconscious.

That was the weirdest part. He didn't trust anyone to tell of his past, no women from town at least. And, thank Merlin, the voice didn't not belong to Pansy Parkinson.

_So whose voice is it?_

Deciding to think on it later, Draco pulled the stack of papers closer, settling in for another long afternoon of filing.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N- Still alive out there? Sorry, real life has been nothing but busy as it's the end of the year and I have exams to pass and sports to play. There will be more frequent updates once June starts, I assure you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't add anything more to this chapter. Nothing seemed to fit. _

_Thanks for the reviewers. And followers. And favoriters (is that a word? I don't think so.)_

Chapter Seventeen

"Stop that!" Madam Quincie grabbed at the cigarette in Benjamin's hand but he stuck it in his mouth, turning away. The elderly woman rolled her eyes and turned back to the repetitive motion of wiping the counter off with a dish rag. Benjamin took a slow drag of the cigarette before tapping the ashes out of the open window above the sink.

"Where's Jasmine? She around here?" He asked after several moments. Madam Quincie shot him a weary look.

"Yes, _she_ had the decency to stick around, unlike you," Suddenly, she appeared very, very old. Older than she'd ever looked before. Her face seemed to crumple in on itself, the wrinkles deepening, "You know she was always jealous of you,"

Benjamin nodded, looking out the window at the crystal clear blue sky. His sister had been resentful of him, of what he could do. She'd never gotten over it.

"Dad was the only one who understood," Benjamin muttered, avoiding his mother's eyes.

"That's not true and you know it," She bit out, managing not to sound hurt. Benjamin knew her voice patterns though, knew that soon the tones would be shaking with repressed tears.

"Mom… I know that you think that I've just abandoned you completely after school. But I had to get out of this town. It was suffocating," Benjamin pleaded, reaching for her weathered hands. Old memories swam to the front of his mind, memories that had been forgotten. Snippets of him, Jasmine, his mother and father in this kitchen making breakfast, arguing, rushing about before school, getting owls…

"You called me Madam Quincie," She whispered to the countertop. Benjamin startled, nearly dropping his cigarette.

"What?"

"You called me Madam Quincie a few moments ago, in the hall,"

"Mornin'," A feminine voice announced the entrance of another person in the room, "Anyone seen Orion about? I told him I was sleeping in because Andrew gave me the day off, but who knows what that boy has gotten into…"

Benjamin turned about, facing a thin woman with wild brown hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. Her large brown eyes flickered about the room, locking on Madam Quincie. His mother was all but shaking now, her tiny shoulders trembling slightly. Benjamin turned to the mystery woman again and found himself staring at her, because she looked _so familiar…_

"Who're you?"

Her eyes shifted to meet his, an eyebrow raised. Something clicked in Benjamin's mind, it just _clicked _because he recognized that face, how many times had he seen it before in the paper? Hundreds, as a teenager, _hundreds_ of times.

"I know you," Benjamin gasped, pointing at her. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but he didn't let her, "You're Hermione Granger,"

X

"Mr. McDermitt? There's a package for you,"

Draco nodded absently, closing the folder resting on his desk. His secretary was holding out a small, brown-paper wrapped box with numerous stamps littering the front. He stood, taking it from her. After the room was empty once more, Draco pulled his wand from his pants pocket, preforming several revealing charms on the package. They all came up negative, but Draco was still suspicious. He rarely got mail, much less packages with what appeared to be international stamps on it.

Glancing about the room, Draco hesitated in opening the package. He didn't know what to anticipate. _Stop being ridiculous and open the package, Malfoy, _an internal voice whispered. It sounded a lot like Granger.

Ripping open the thick outer shell, the blonde felt something heavy fall into his lap. It was an ornate, silver frame. Staring up at him from behind the glass were two familiar faces.

It sent chills down Draco's spine.

For the picture was of his father and him, taken just before fifth year. Draco could remember the picture being taken; the photographer was a stuffy man with three chins and a jacket that smelled like moldy cheese. Lucius had specifically asked that the picture be immobilized, though Draco never did find out why.

In the picture, his father was staring proudly into the camera, his features strong and eyes sharp. Draco was smirking in a cocky, teenage way, eyes shining with mirth. Or they would be, if they had not been scratched out.

Yes, _scratched out_. Little white lines crisscrossed over the upper half of fifteen-year-old Draco's eyes, erasing them from the picture completely. It looked like someone had taken an overly-sharp quill and dragged it across the glossy surface.

"Clara!" Draco shouted, willing his voice not to shake. The woman rushed back into his office, her high heels clicking on the tiled floors.

"Yes Mister McDermitt?" She asked politely, clutching several papers in her hands.

"Where… where did you get that package?" Draco demanded the information curtly. Clara gave him an 'are you serious?' look.

"The mail, sir. I got the package from the mail,"

_What normal wizard sends things through the muggle mail system? It's ridiculously slow and abysmally costly._

"The mail," Draco answered flatly, staring into the piercing eyes of his photographic father, "The fucking mail,"

Clara's voice shot up an octave, "I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. The mail is the mail. The postal service, you know, stamps and letters? Packages?"

"I'm aware what the postal service is, I just don't understand…" Draco ground out, mostly to himself, "Why would he send me this _now? _Granted the Aurors didn't catch him but he could've contacted me sooner if he wanted to…"

"Mr. McDermitt, are you alright?" Clara's clear voice cut through his musings.

"Yes, yes, fine," Draco willed himself to look up, meeting her concerned eyes, "But I need you to tell Mr. Linney that I need to speak with him. Immediately,"

Clara nodded and rushed out the door.


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N- Ok, so I FINALLY got this chapter figured out. It still feels a bit disjointed and weird to me but I can never write well when I'm stressed. And oh boy am I stressed. _

_On a side note, I've decided to surrender my life to Supernatural. I'm already on Season 2 and I started last weekend. _

_Thanks for the reviews. (I broke 50, woo!) And views in general. I think it's so cool that people actually enjoy my stories. _

Chapter Eighteen

When she was five years old, Hermione's parents had taken her to the shore. Her mother had packed all of their things in the trunk and they'd driven until the sun was below the trees. Hermione had only been in the pool once or twice, and when they got to the beach it was like a dream come true. There was so much freedom to do whatever she wanted; swim, play in the sand, run for miles. Hermione's father had insisted that she only go out into the water with him, but the third morning they were there was particularly windy. So windy, in fact, that it swept their beach towels and umbrella down the sand. Hermione's parents had chased after it, telling the young child to stay put. Naturally, she didn't listen.

The water was cold and the waves were choppy. Hermione must've only been out a few feet but she was tiny and the squishy bottom seemed to disappear. She'd flailed several times, crying out. Then, a monstrous wave crashed down.

She was drowning. Water filled her nose, obliterated her every sense. She kicked, she tried to scream, her arms hit the water with loud splashes. Her lungs were slowly filling with water, the world darkening with spots. And then she was above water in the arms of a life guard, who took her back to her parents. She'd never been so relieved in her life.

Hermione was experiencing the same feeling as nearly drowning all those years ago. She couldn't breathe, and if she didn't escape surely she'd die.

"You know me," She managed to gasp out, her hands intertwining in her hair, giving a solid tug, "Wh…. Who're you?"

Madam Quincie gave her an odd look, "Julia, are you quite alright? You look like you've seen a ghost," The older woman moved closer, reaching for Hermione's shoulders. The young woman startled and leapt back, her eyes wide and mistrusting.

"You're one of them aren't you?" A million possibilities flew through Hermione's mind. They could be spies, providing information to remaining Death Eaters. They could be reporters who were assigned to spy on her. They could be ruthless assassins, sent to kill her and Orion.

Alright, perhaps the last one was a bit farfetched.

"Stay away from me!" Hermione shouted, her blood pounding in her ears. Her heart was going to expel from her chest any second if she didn't relax.

The brown-haired man, who'd been standing against the counter wordlessly, spoke up, "Listen, we're not going to hurt you. She's a muggle and I've never even been to Britain. It's all right,"

Hermione's eyes narrowed to slits, "Show me your left arm,"

Madam Quincie frowned, glancing back at the man. He nodded slowly, and held out his flawless forearm. Madam Quincie did the same. _Well, they weren't Death Eaters._

"Alright. Well, at least that's cleared up," The brunette released a shaky breath. Before the others could respond, the telephone rang.

Madam Quincie picked it up.

"Hello? Oh hi Evan… What's wrong, boy? You… you what? What do you want? Ok, ok, keep your pants on," She turned, holding out the phone, "Julia?"

Taking the device with shaking hands, Hermione spoke into the receiver, "Hello?"

"Granger, I need you to come and meet me. I'm with Blaise in the pub off of Main Street. It's urgent, and if you think Orion might be harmed then bring him too, I don't want him to get—"

"Evan!" Hermione shouted, refraining from shouting out his real name, "Calm down. I can hardly understand you. Take a breath,"

She heard a sharp exhale from the other end, "Sorry," He spoke, sounding calmer. Hermione was in shock, because she'd never heard Malfoy get so frazzled. It was disturbing to think what had caused that anxiety.

"Now talk to me like a normal person please," Hermione commanded.

"I received some troubling news that I need your assistance with. Please bring yourself and your son down to the pub on Main Street so we can talk. Blaise is with me," He spoke with a cold indifference, but Hermione knew that beneath the façade was panic.

"Why?" She deserved more than just a request to meet him.

"I said that I received some troubling news and… Just… Just come and meet me, alright?!"

"Why should I…" She heard a huff of irritation from the other end, "Fine, fine!" Hermione agreed, trying to calm him, "What's gotten your nickers in a bunch?"

There was a pause. Then, "My father,"

The phone clattered to the floor. Hermione was left holding air.

"Oh," She whispered.

X

"These stamps are from somewhere in Germany, Evan," Mr. Linney said appraisingly, examining the package, "They are fairly recent, nothing special. But if I'd known you were interested in stamp collection I would've shown you the one's my grandfather had. Oh, they're so… cool…"

_What's my father doing in Germany?_ Draco thought anxiously, ignoring his boss completely.

"What was that?" Mr. Linney stopped digging through his desk drawer, opting to give his employee a speculative look instead.

Realizing that he'd spoken aloud, Draco sighed, "Nothing it's just that…. The package was a picture,"

Mr. Linney's eyebrows rose, "Really. What kind of photo, Evan?"

Draco's lip curled, "A… childhood photograph. One that my… father took. I haven't spoken to him in years and for him to be contacting me now…" _It's beyond unnerving._

His boss sighed, settling back in his chair, "Did you have problems with your father, Evan?"

"Loads," Draco responded without thinking, "Once I was so excited that he'd come home that I spilt tea that was meant for my mother all over the carpet," _The ornate, hundreds-of-years-old carpet_, "And…" _He'd made me stand outside for an hour in the bitter cold. He'd then proceeded to lecture me and hired a tutor in manners, _"He punished me,"

Mr. Linney nodded slowly, "Alright… may I see this picture?"

Draco squirmed in his seat, suddenly feeling like Mr. Linney was Professor Snape and he was back at Hogwarts.

"Er…"

"It's all right, Evan. I understand. Everyone deserves their privacy. I'll talk to you later, alright?" Mr. Linney gazed across the desk with knowing eyes. The blonde smiled faintly and took the wrappings back, tucking them into his pocket.

"I'm going out for lunch, Mr. Linney. I hope you don't mind,"

"Of course not," The older man smiled warmly.

Draco shut the door quietly, striding down the hallway with a purpose in mind.

He needed to contact Blaise.

X

"…So then I just called the hotel and asked them if a Mr. Zabini was there. And that's that, I suppose. I mean, I called you also but that was later,"

Hermione sat across from Draco and Blaise. The two were awaiting the young woman's response. She lifted an eyebrow.

"Why would your father send a picture in the muggle mail? It doesn't make sense!" Hermione was baffled. Lucius Malfoy hadn't been particularly evil before the war but after he went completely off the rails. Part of it probably had to do with losing his son. Being one of Voldemort's right hand men gave Malfoy Sr. a serious power trip. But this new method of threatening Draco didn't make sense. How did he find the address? Why was he in Germany? Why would he bother with the muggle system in the first place?

Draco nodded and sat back, "Yeah, well now that you know that my father is still out there, we need answers. Fast."

Draco and Hermione both twisted to face Blaise. The dark-haired man had been stirring his drink, but upon sensing their hopeful gazes, he stopped. Exhaling slowly, Blaise nodded begrudgingly.

"I can't believe you two. I'll look into it, alright. Keep in mind, however, that the Aurors that have been working for the Order are in a frenzy right now—"

"Yeah yeah, Blaise, whatever. Just figure out why the hell a madman who wants my son's blood on his hands has figured out our location," Draco snapped, rolling his eyes. Hermione, however, was suddenly struck with reality. A vengeful man whose brain had been twisted into something evil was after her son. He was after _her. _

"Granger?" Draco asked, reaching for Hermione's hands. They were shaking. He held them in his own until the young woman's eyes met his.

"He's after us,"

"I know, but we'll get to the bottom of it. I promise," Draco reassured, rubbing soothing circles into her soft skin. She had leant forward slightly, her brown eyes wide with anxiety.

Draco could count the almost unnoticeable freckles that littered her nose.

"Ahem," Blaise coughed, causing the two to separate rather quickly. Draco settled back, a mask of indifference on. Hermione had a light pink flush to her cheeks, and was avoiding looking at either of the men across from her for too long.

"If that's all, love birds, I'd like to get going. Looks like I'll be back in Britain sooner than expected,"

Orion, who'd been attempting to play pool at an old table in the back of the pub, ran over to his mother, smiling wildly.

"I g-got the eight b-ball in!" He cried excitably, grabbing at his mother's hand. Hermione smiled.

"Really now? Would you like me to come and see?" She asked, and Orion nodded. The young woman stood and allowed herself to be dragged back to the pool table. Orion stood on a chair and gestured to his mother, who was grinning wildly.

"Muggle sports. Useless if you ask me," Blaise muttered. Draco wasn't listening.

He was too busy admiring Hermione Granger.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N- I know this is short and late, but I didn't see what else I could add to this chapter. I've also been reading some pretty great novels lately that I can't put down (The Shining, Wicked, Gone for Good). Thanks so much for the reviews and favs and follows. Feedback is always appreciated! :) _

Chapter Nineteen

"Yeah, I warded the house," Hermione spoke into the phone, shuffling about the kitchen, "The strongest one's I know, yes… It's all taken care of, no need to worry… I'll see you tomorrow… bye,"

Orion swung his legs back and forth, his heel occasionally whacking a leg of the chair. The child smiled at his mother, who was busy preparing him an early dinner.

His mummy set a sandwich in front of him, as well as a tall glass of milk. Orion picked it up and nibbled at it, not particularly hungry. He wanted to _play _already, to go outside and spend time with Zoe. Zoe was his pretty friend, but she didn't like him much because she thought he had cooties. Cooties was such a three-year-old babyish thing to believe in (And Orion did _not _think they were real).

The boy glanced at his mother again. Something was off about her. She had been acting stranger and stranger since meeting up with his pretend daddy, her mind in another place. Orion was worried for his mother (she was his responsibility, after all. Someone had to protect her.)

Now she was resting against the counter, her head buried in her hands.

"What's wrong mummy?"

His mommy startled and looked at him, her kind brown eyes worried, "I've just gotten us into a mess, sweetie. I'm fine, don't be upset,"

"Did you spill milk on the carpet?" Orion asked, shuddering at the notion. That would take forever to get out.

His mommy laughed bitterly, "No, Ronnie, I haven't spilled milk,"

"How about orange juice?" Orion guessed, his brow furrowing, "That's not so bad,"

"It's not about the carpet, Orion!" His mum snapped, pushing a mass of brown hair out of her eyes, "We're like sitting ducks here, and we can't leave because of some… some… some egotistic _jerk _who's settled down in suburbia,"

Orion looked at his plate, studying the peanut butter sandwich. His chin trembled.

_Don't cry, crying is a sign of weakness._

His mummy sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm just scared, sweetheart,"

"Of what, mummy?"

"Of… of…" _Of spiders? Rats? Clowns? The Dark Place? The monster under the bed? _"Of losing you. I love you too much, Ronnie, and I don't want you to ever get hurt,"

Those words puzzled Orion. What if he fell off the bed and bumped his knee?

"What if I trip when I'm playing and scrape myself?" Orion cocked his head to the side, confused. Little accidents, like scrapes and bruises, did happen. And mummy couldn't punish the ground or the floor…

"No, no, not like that. I meant if someone else hurts you… just come and tell me, huh sweetheart? I don't want you to be distressed,"

Orion wasn't sure what that meant, but he felt reassured. He took another bite of his sandwich, washing it down with now-warm milk.

X

Night had fallen. Shadows lengthened and street lights came on, their orange glows casting halos on anyone who walked through their beams. In an alleyway off of Birkley Street, a young woman shifted from foot to foot, as if waiting on someone. A car engine revved in the distance, causing the woman to flinch.

"Hello, Sasha," A teasing voice whispered. Sasha turned, her dark hair flying off her shoulders in haste. Standing there was a tall blonde man. He looked like someone who hadn't eaten properly in a long time; his pale skin sunken in on the cheeks, his clothes swallowing his torso up, his hair long lost its luster. But through all that he managed to look regal. His cold eyes investigated the litter-laden alley with disgust before finally settling on Sasha once more.

"_Sasha,"_ The woman mocked her name, "Right. Whatever you say, Lucius,"

The blonde rolled his eyes, "Stop _whining, _Nott. Do you have any idea how annoying it is?"

Sasha pouted, "But it's so weird turning into a bloody girl all the time!"

Lucius crossed his arms, leaning on the red brick wall next to him, "Whatever Nott. You're the one who signed up for the job,"

"I _know," _Sasha's voice began to sound like a spoiled teenager's, "Because I thought having boobs would be fun! But let's face it, bras are annoying, and that 'monthly gift' I heard about wasn't a present, Lucius. It was…" The Sasha imposter shuddered.

Shifting his weight so he could pull something, a flask, out of his pocket, Lucius sighed, "Listen kid, do your damn job—"

"I still don't get why we have to wait. I mean, they don't even know we're here! We attack Draco during his lunch break and Granger in her bed! Take the boy and leave! It's easy—"

"No," Growled Lucius, his eyes flashing silver, "I want to lure them into a sense of false security. Even more than they've got now. Don't question my motives, Nott, you are a mere pawn that can be easily replaced. I helped you because I knew your father, no other reason. If it wasn't for me, you'd be rotting in Azkaban,"

That shut the imposter up.

"We'll talk later, Bella needs me," The older man spoke after a moment. Nott nodded slowly, reproachfully. Lucius tossed the flask toward the girl (_or boy, it all depends on viewpoint_) who caught it easily.

"That should be sufficient for the next few days. You know what to do if it runs low. Keep an eye on Draco, but don't reveal your identity. I will not have you mess this up for me. Don't go getting into trouble, and whatever you do, _don't screw up," _Lucius commanded, his dark robes rustling in a warm breeze.

With a loud crack in the quiet night, he was gone.


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N- *hides* I know it's been forever since I've updated... sorry! Life (aka school) got in the way. I'm starting finals next week, but hopefully after those are done I can get back on a good writing schedule._

_Alright, WARNING: This chapter sucks. Yep, just thought I'd put it out there. I tried to get my creative essence going but it didn't work all too well. Next chapter is much more exciting (we're nearing the climax in this story... probably only about 5-6 more chapters until then). I know it's a bit silly, the way the characters bicker this chapter, but I just wanted an excuse to make them all tease each other. _

_I've also been totally immersed with Supernatural (I started Season 7 on Netflix.) so sorry if certain... aspects of this chapter are similar. You'll see why. I just... I couldn't help myself. _

_ANYWAYS enough ranting! Thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows from last chapter. _

Chapter Twenty

"Good morning," Benjamin smiled softly at Hermione. The young woman offered a hesitant nod in response, handing her son orange juice across the table. Orion was oddly quiet, his small shoulders hunched inward.

Benjamin's mind wandered to the brunette next to him. She was a war heroine, or she would've been had the 'Light Side' beaten the 'Dark Side' during the Second Wizarding War. After the Death Eater's defeat, the major war figures were captured and then killed. The Daily Prophet had stopped being printed, and Benjamin had always taken care to read it now and again while in Salem. It was odd to see Hermione Granger, the supposed-to-be-dead witch, _here, _at his mother's boarding house. And, according to his mother, Hermione had only arrived in the past month. The most ironic part was the fact that nobody seemed to know who Julia Smith _really _was.

There were speculations that Voldemort was now dead, which only added to the mystery of the brunette woman. The wizards in Europe were a mess, and many other wizarding communities refused to get involved. It was, in all honesty, hard to deal with. That's why Benjamin had married a muggle, he wanted to get away from the wizarding world for a while. At the time, America's central wizarding government was corrupt and he'd wanted to blend in with the greater population of muggles. He'd never told his wife that he was a wizard, but she'd left him too early on in their marriage for any awkward questions of that sort to arise.

Benjamin's attention was brought back to the present upon hearing the front door open. Two male voices were growing steadily louder as their footsteps could be heard approaching the kitchen.

"… Well it's not my fault that you enjoy that kind of music—"

"What? The radio stations are so diverse here—"

"You're insane,"

"Well you're boring,"

Into the room walked two men, each wearing slightly-above-casual clothes. They looked familiar to Benjamin, but he couldn't place them for the life of him.

"Can you two be any more childlike?" Hermione asked sardonically, without glancing upward from the morning paper, which she'd gotten her hands on. The little boy across from her giggled.

"You're funny mummy," He chortled, reaching for a sausage on his plate, "Funny, funny, funny,"

_So Granger's got a son. Interesting._

"No, we can't actually," The blonde man responded sharply, his British accent flowing over the chatty table, "Got a problem Julia?" He turned slightly, toward the window and, consequently, toward Benjamin.

And then the wizard realized where he recognized this man from.

Without a second thought he stood, pushing his chair back with a screech. Blind rage filled his vision. _Murderer. This man's a murderer. He's a Death Eater gone AWOL. He's… He's a… monster…_

"Hey mate. Going somewhere?" The Malfoy heir asked with a small smirk, leaning against the refrigerator. Benjamin gave him a thin-lipped smile in response, before grabbing the blonde by his collar and shoving him up against the wall.

"Hello… _mate,_" Benjamin mocked, his upper lip curling.

Grey eyes narrowed, "Listen I don't swing that way—"

"That's not what I was implying, _Malfoy,"_

The room had gone deathly still.

And the young man against the wall was looking very, _very _pissed.

"Oh, you're one of us. Lovely. Welcome to the club kid,"

Benjamin tightened his hold on the blue shirt collar, "I'm older than you, dick weed,"

"Ah Americans, classy as ever," The second man spoke up in a calm, collected tone. Benjamin spared him a glance, and was surprised to find the displeased face of Blaise Zabini staring back at him.

"Howdy partner. And here I thought I only had to deal with one scumbag today,"

"Alright, enough," Hermione Granger (_of all people) _interjected, "Benjamin, Blaise, put your family jewels away. There's enough testosterone in this room as it is. And for the love of god, let him go!" She gestured toward Malfoy. Benjamin removed his hands and backed away, silent.

"Right, well, this is how it's going to work," She spoke again after a moment, patting her fly-away hair down, "Blaise and… and Evan are going to come with me," Benjamin wondered for a moment as to who Evan was before realizing that it was Malfoy's alias, "And Benjamin… look after Orion for me would you?"

And then the three were out of the room and Benjamin was left standing there with several questioning stares and a four-year old to look after.

X

"That guy's a wizard?" Was Draco's immediate question once the trio had escaped the awkward encounter with Benjamin. Hermione nodded slowly as they ascended the stairs.

"Yeah… he recognized me right away. It think he's a muggle born like me, because his mother seems a bit… out of touch with magic," The witch added as she opened the door to her bedroom.

"Ooh, now I can tell everyone I've been in Hermione Granger's bedroom… I love what you've done with the place," Draco joked as he plopped into a chair sitting in the corner.

Hermione shot him an odd look before saying, "Ha ha. Very funny. Like you'd stand a chance,"

"Woah, too much sexual tension. Quick, someone get the spray bottle! I think I'm overheating!" Blaise cried, fanning himself with his hand. Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione scowled.

"Yeah, sexual tension. That's it,"

There was a pause.

"So what are you two doing here? You obviously didn't come on a social call,"

Blaise, who'd been leaning against the door, approached the bed, where Hermione was perched, "Well, you know about the picture that Draco received… and as it turns out, I got some… _fan mail _earlier this morning as well,"

Draco shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yeah, fan mail. That's it,"

Ignoring his friend, Blaise continued, "Except for that… I received this letter by owl, Granger,"

"But Draco got his by a post man. That doesn't make sense!" Hermione said, turning to pace about the floor, "It's from Lucius, right?"

"Actually…" Blaise said slowly, reaching into his pants pocket, "No. It's not. It's from an old friend of mine, Theo. Theo Nott,"

"Nott…" Hermione scratched her head, her feet slowing, "Didn't he go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, he did, and became a Death Eater shortly after the loss at the Battle of Hogwarts," Blaise informed them, "He should be in Azkaban but… but he's not. He got away, slippery bastard. And he's contacted me,"

Holding out the piece of parchment, Blaise offered it for Hermione to take.

It read:

_Dear B,_

_I write this to you in haste. I have made a deal with someone with a name like the devil, the muggle name for the devil that is. I need your help. I've gotten in over my head, and I want out. This crazy idea of his is not rational. It's worse than the snake man's ever was. I need your assistance in stopping him. I am aware that you, D and the brightest are in town. This is no trap, meet me at the park at five tomorrow, Thursday. _

_~T_

"'I have made a deal with someone with a name like the devil, the muggle name for the devil that is?' As in like… Lucius and Lucifer?" Hermione questioned, glancing up from the paper.

"Yeah. Theo's a bit… out there,"

"Did Theo compare my _father_ to the devil?" Draco asked with a sudden surge of anger. _How dare that little shit insult his father, the man who raised him?!_

"Wow Malfoy. Didn't know you cared," Blaise remarked as he took the letter back from Hermione. Draco's shoulders seemed to sag a bit as he settled back in his chair.

"I don't. Force of habit," He responded bitterly, glancing to the side like a pensive model in a photo shoot.

"Stop acting like a girl, princess-of-the-whiney-bitches and help us discuss a plan," Hermione snapped. Draco glanced at her, eyebrows raised, before standing and approaching the two. They were going to need to figure out a way to confront Nott without walking into a trap.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N- New Chapter! YAY! I really like this chapter, though certain parts feel rushed. Oh well, I spent like three hours on this. I was actually planning on adding in Hermione's date with Andrew, but it's not relevant to the story and I wanted to get this updated today. _

_Thanks for the reviews, faves and follows! :) _

_Now, please enjoy my plot twists and cliffhanger. That's the only warning I'm providing._

Chapter Twenty One

Theodore Nott was waiting beneath a redwood tree.

It was an odd sight to Draco; his former classmate wearing a t-shirt and jeans on a muggle playground. He looked older, the blue shadows beneath his eyes an indicator of his exhaustion. His brown hair was severely rumpled, his eyes vacant of emotion. If Draco had seen him on the street he would've assumed that Theo was depressed or possibly insane. Being a Death Eater could do that to someone.

"Nott," Blaise commented as they approached the tree. Theo's eyes darted up nervously, then back to the ground.

"Here," He whispered, holding out his wand for Draco to take. He did, checking that it was real before pocketing it, "I've got nothing to hide,"

There was an awkward pause.

"Where's Granger?"

Draco laughed shortly, his gaze wandering over the jungle gym. Several children were swinging, another going down the slide. _What innocent youth that would be soon corrupted through school and life._

"She's got a job, mate. At a bookstore. Doesn't that sound like her?" Blaise filled in the blanks.

_Ah yes, Hermione does work at a bookstore. She's a bookworm if I've ever seen one which is actually incredibly attractive-_

Wait. _What._

Theo and Blaise were both staring at the blonde, waiting for him to say something. Draco startled out of his thoughts, nodding, "Yes. Right. What's your business here, Theo?"

Nott shifted uncomfortably and rolled his shoulders back, "I am… I _was _on a mission from Lucius but several events have taken place that have made me reconsider what I've been doing,"

Draco was growing impatient, "Like what?"

Theo's voice dropped to a hush, "First of all, he made me take polyjuice to look like a girl. Do you know how weird that is?"

Draco and Blaise exchanged a look.

"I mean, I might be a Death Eater, but going through that greatly increased my appreciation of women. What they have to put up with from men, from body images in magazines, from _their own bodies_…" Theo continued to ramble. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Alright. So who did you impersonate? I'm assuming a young, attractive young woman with gentle curves and an attractive face?" Blaise taunted, but Draco wasn't paying attention. He'd kept tabs, more or less, on nearly everyone in the town. It was good to know if you had any enemies nearby and in a small town it was easy to do so. Nobody had been acting strange lately, not as far as he could tell. In fact, the only people that were 'new' to town were Hermione, Orion, and Sasha.

"You're Sasha, aren't you?"

Theo froze.

"I've got nothing to lose really, so yes. I'm Sasha. I've been sent to watch you—"

"For how long?" Draco cut in, his eyes flashing silver. He was _pissed_. Theo was a soldier; someone who took orders without asking questions. He'd been in Slytherin, for Merlin's sakes! When did he become so stupid and dull-witted?

"Since Sasha—Since I—arrived in town," Theo admitted, his head ducking slightly. Blaise let out a low whistle.

"I flirted with you, Nott. Hell, I checked out your arse!" Draco fought to keep his voice even. He wasn't going to explode, _he wasn't. _But just the thought that Theo had been spying on him in the office throughout the last month was chilling. _And another thing. Theo's been impersonating Sasha for a month… where has he gotten all that potion? And all of the hair required for it?_

"Yeah sorry. Believe me, it was quite strange for me too—"

Theo stopped talking when Draco shoved him against the tree, nose-to-nose.

"Where is the real Sasha Bradely?" The blonde hissed through his teeth, pushing the brunette further into the bark with his arm. Theo winced, holding up his hands in defeat.

"Honestly? Probably dead. Bellatrix survived you know," Nott shrugged, "Wasn't aware that you cared so much for her, Malfoy,"

Draco released his former classmate, taking a step back, "I don't. Curiosity, I suppose,"

"What happened to you? You're all… domesticized," Theo asked, his lip curling slightly. Blaise rolled his eyes and pursed his lips.

"Yeah, he is, isn't he? But it's no worse than you being Lucius' little bitch. Refresh my memory; when did that happen again?"

There was another moment of silence, in which Theo appeared to grow even more pissed off and Draco relaxed his tense position.

It was Theo who broke the quiet.

"When Draco here won worst kid of the year award and left home, that's when. Lucius was in need of someone to play son for him, so I stepped up for the role,"

Draco's blood boiled. His father was a bastard at times, yes, even more so since the war had officially begun, but he was always appreciative of what his son did. He did follow his father around and did exactly what he said, after all. He was not a bad son for leaving his mother to fend for herself and his father's mental state to deteriorate into partial insanity. He wasn't selfish or bad or evil.

_He wasn't._

"That's not entirely true," Blaise cut in, a shit-eating-grin on his face, "Tell the class what _really _happened at Malfoy Manor, Theodore,"

His best friend's words stopped Draco's musings for a moment.

"What do you mean, 'what really happened'?"

Theo sighed and crossed his arms, "Alright, alright. I'm just messing with you, mate. I was never like a son to Lucius. Your father is a sick son of a bitch, by the way," Draco, despite everything that had happened, almost saw red, "He wants another heir. There, that's the truth. Can I go now? It's not safe to be out in the open for this long,"

Blaise stepped forward, "No. You can't leave, not until you tell us what the bloody hell is going on. What did you mean just then, 'he wants another heir?' Did he buy himself a girlfriend?"

"No. He's already got one."

The blonde of the group bit his lip, confused, "I'm his only heir, Nott. What sort of potion have you been taking?"

"No, no, no! Don't you see! _Orion _is the new heir! Lucius' plan was to take the young boy in and alter his memories so he thought Lucius was his father. He would be raised in the Manor, of course, and treated as a prince. Orion is technically of Malfoy blood, despite his mother being a mudblood—"

"Watch it," Draco said warningly.

"Whatever. I think your father thought that if Orion thought he was a pureblood it wouldn't matter. Just pretend that everything was fine and dandy—"

"But that doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't he just obliviate _me_?" Draco felt something, an emotion of some kind, blossoming in the nether regions of his stomach. Orion was a stranger, but Lucius had known his son his whole life. Why wouldn't his father track _him_ down and alter his memories so Draco could be with his family again. That was what his father wanted, an heir. Draco was the true heir.

Was he not worth the effort?

"Because, _Malfoy, _there are cracks in the spell. Occasionally, a person who has been obliviated can remember things. Small things, a fleeting memory perhaps, but enough to make you question your existence. 'Is it real or has my mind been tampered with?' Now children's memories are different. Orion would still have those cracks, but the memories of his mother, of the torture, would be sluggish and dream-like. He would add them up as reoccurring childhood nightmares and continue living as your father's little soldier. What with two Malfoy men as Death Eaters, who knows what could happen? Another dark lord, perhaps? It's all about power, you two. The sooner you learn that, the better,"

Draco turned to Blaise, "And you knew about this? For how long?"

Blaise stuck his hands in his pockets, "Honestly, Draco, I'd known it was coming. I wasn't sure when. Voldemort wasn't concerned with the… projects Lucius got involved in. He didn't care if Orion was captured or not. He was set on wiping out the mudbloods, the muggles themselves. I'd only heard fleeting words of what Lucius had plans for and by the time I learned the true story Voldemort was dead. I tracked you down because… because I didn't want your father to get to you… to either of you,"

"My father is insane," Draco whispered, rubbing his hand across his forehead, "Oh sweet Merlin, my father has fallen off his rocker,"

"I'm sorry mate, I tried to help you as best as I could without revealing how much I actually knew," Blaise moved closer to his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright. If we're all done with the soap opera moment—" Theo stretched, stepping away from the tree.

"The what?" Blaise asked, his head cocking to the side.

"Wow man, you really have got to watch the telly more. It's actually so incredibly interesting, the things muggles come up with. Now all I need is my wand back—"

"Why did you help us?" Draco questioned, his gaze fixed on the man in front of him. Theo sighed.

"Honestly? I'm looking out for me, myself and I here. Turning into a girl to please a power-hungry bastard and a wicked bitch? No thank you. As soon as I  
realized that I wasn't going to get much out of this deal, I contacted you," Theo shrugged. His eyes wandered across the park, taking in the chatting parents and the screeching kids. The sunlight filtered down through the tree's leaves, except for when clouds occasionally drifted over the sun.

"Alright… One last question. Why is my father waiting to attack? He knows where we are, all of us,"

"He's… he's luring you into a sense of false security," Theo stated, before holding out his hand, "Wand, please,"

Draco handed it over, grudgingly, and Theo disappeared with a 'pop'.

"That was…"

"Informative," Draco agreed with Blaise, it was informative. They held the blueprints for Lucius' design.

But what were they supposed to do with them?

X

When Hermione returned from work (and another date with Andrew, which was realaxing and fun), she was greeted by her two wizards-in-crime.

"So we found out what my father wants," Draco told her the moment she set her purse down. Blaise was standing behind the blonde, a determined expression on his face.

"Yeah. He wants your son,"

That stopped Hermione cold, "He wants 'Ronnie? Why?"

Draco and Blaise exchanged a look, "Well, he wants an heir… and apparently I'm too 'old' to be obliviated properly," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, and Sasha Bradely? Not Sasha. Theodore Nott, actually," Blaise chimed in.

"Alright, that's just wrong," Hermione stated, crossing her arms.

"You're telling us," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Well, I warded the house already. I got good at those spells during my years in hiding. We can figure out how we're going to go about this tomorrow," Hermione concluded. Blaise nodded and said goodbye.

Draco was about to tell the young woman that he had to leave too when Madam Quincie walked in on them, her grey hair in a state of disarray.

"Oh good, Evan, you're here. I need your assistance in my study. You too, Julia, if you don't mind,"

Unable to say no, they followed her up the stairs and into a small room that was taken up by a desk and several comfortable-looking chairs. The walls had been covered in bookshelves and photographs. On the desk, piled high, were stacks of records and files. The record player itself was sitting on an end table in the corner.

"I need you to sort through the records. I've been at the files and books all day, and I need to go downstairs to make dinner for everyone. If the record is undamaged put it in one pile and if it's scratched, throw it away. Thank you so much!" And with that, the elderly woman was gone.

"Uhm… records?" Draco asked, obviously confused. Hermione laughed, and reached for one.

"These. Before cassette tapes and CDs there were records. You put them on a record player, like that," She pointed to it casually, "My mum used to own one,"

_Don't think about them, Hermione, it'll only depress you._

"Oh. What did she mean, scratched?" Draco moved to pick up a record, reading the sleeve it was in.

"Well record players have these things called 'arms', it's the piece that has the 'needle', which 'reads' the music. Now, on each record are little grooves. I don't know too much about record players, shocking because I'm Hermione Granger, and I should know everything, but I never really got into technology I suppose. What I do know is that the needle runs over the grooves, which has the imprint of the musical recording on it. If the record is scratched, the music is interrupted, and it can mess up the entire record. The record is then ruined,"

Draco nodded slowly, turning the vinyl disk over in his hands, "That's actually… incredibly fascinating,"

Hermione smiled softly, taking in the look of amazement on his face, "That's something I thought I'd never see; Draco Malfoy, interested in muggle technology,"

The blonde smirked, "Well get used to it. I don't particularly like the television, or the computers, but the music is just amazing,"

"Yes, well," Hermione cleared her throat, turning away, "You put the record on the turntable. Like this," She placed the Beatles record down on the player and turned it on. She shifted the needle onto the disk and it began to play.

"_In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs_…"

"This is a Beatles album!" The brunette exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down from excitement, "My dad used to listen to these all the time!"

"A Beatles album? But they're human," Draco commented, somewhat dumbly, as he shifted through the pile of records.

"No, you cultureless oaf, that's their band name. They were a very famous British band in the '60's and '70's. I love this song," Hermione almost swooned, her hands clasped together. It felt like forever since she'd heard this song, and it immediately took her back to rainy afternoons sitting with her father listening to music on their living room couch.

"Right. I knew that," The wizard said, nodding. He took a step toward Hermione, who was smiling softly, a far-away look in her eyes.

"Let's dance," She whispered to him, and he stared down at her. They were awfully close in the tightly-packed office, almost nose-to-nose now. Draco took one of her hands in his own and she reached for his other. They swayed slowly back and forth, unable to do much else. The song was upbeat and fun yet Draco felt his palms begin to sweat and Hermione was aware of how the room temperature seemed to increase by twenty degrees. Her eyes met his for fleeting seconds, only to glance away again. Their chests were pressed together, and if Hermione dared to stand on her tiptoes, to lean in just a little bit…

"_There beneath the blue suburban skies… Penny Lane…_"

And just like that, the song was over. The moment was broken, and the two people stepped away from each other quickly. The song changed and Hermione went back to looking through records. Draco sighed as he glanced at the photographs on the walls.

"So what made you come here? To America, I mean," Hermione prompted after several minutes of awkward silence. Draco shrugged.

"Honestly? I just wanted an escape and America is a big country with lots of people. The upside is, though, that there's also a lot of small towns. Places that Death Eaters would never look, where they don't have _time_ to look. I knew that my best shot was either here or in Russia, and I am not especially fond of the cold,"

Hermione managed a short laugh, "You hated it here, didn't you?"

Draco couldn't deny her the truth, "Yeah, I did. I had no idea what I was doing. I was confused and… I'd always been taught to hate muggles, you know? Ever since birth," His piercing silver gaze met hers, "And then I get here and… and everyone was so kind to me, I didn't know what to do. I came here because it was the best option at the time, and I tried to distance myself from everyone. Believe me, I did. But the thing is, I just _couldn't_. Madam Quincie was always there to give me a hand if I needed one, and Jasmine would swing by and help me out with the yard work. Mr. Xaing was always willing to talk literature or news. Even outside the house, Mr. Linney was always asking if I was doing alright and Clara, despite her flirtatiousness, is nothing but helpful. I started to grow attached to people… and I left my old life behind. I still used magic, but not as much as I could have. I sort of learned that… that muggles aren't dirty animals like I was told. They're _people_, Granger. And that's an amazing thing,"

Hermione felt something clang about in her heart at his words. It was an unfamiliar feeling; the sort that tightens the chest but makes you feel like flying at the same time. A small, somewhat loopy smile worked its way onto her face. She approached the Death Eater, the murderer, the son, the father, the student, the coworker, the wizard… and all of those titles were stripped away. Underneath, he was what everyone else was.

Just another person.

Not the superhero nor villain. Not the best or worse. Not his father or grandfather.

Just him, just a blonde man with a quick tongue and a small smirk and ridiculously beautiful hair.

With that thought in mind, Hermione Granger pressed a little bit closer, tip-toed a little bit higher, and pressed her lips to his.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N- I know this is late, I've been busy! Thanks for all the followers, the favorites and reviews! _

_Oh and I'm terribly sorry for this chapter (not really). _

Chapter Twenty Two

Caleb Linney unlocked his door, pushing it inward. He'd stayed late at the office; it was nearing nine o'clock by the time he'd left. Caleb was what some people would call a workaholic. He called himself dedicated.

It didn't matter. In a few years he'd be retired, and he and his wife would move to the Keys or somewhere equally as relaxing. Caleb wasn't getting any younger, and as much as he loved his job he wanted to relax as well. Unfortunately an early retirement in a few years meant extra work now.

Caleb set his briefcase down in the hall, glancing up at the stairs. "Rita?" He called out to his wife, approaching the banister, "You home honey?"

There was no response. She had probably fallen asleep early; it was happening more and more these days. Sighing, Caleb turned and walked into the kitchen, hungry for leftovers from the previous evening.

But what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

There, sitting at his table, was a regal-looking man. His long blonde hair was tied back with a silken bow, his clothes, albeit odd, looked expensive. His cheeks were hallow, his lips pursed ever so slightly. But that wasn't what sold the look; it was his eyes. They were a sharp grey color, with a look so cold in them that it seemed to lower the temperature of the whole room. And they were fixed right on Caleb.

"Ah, Mister Linney," The man said, his accent rich and low, "I've been waiting for you,"

Caleb froze. _I've got a psycho in my house, _he thought anxiously, _it's actually happening, there's a serial killer in my house_

"Rita!" He called anxiously, stepping backwards shakily toward the hall, "Rita!"

"Oh, she's asleep," The man said assuredly, standing from the chair slowly, "I've made sure of that,"

Caleb shouted when he ran into someone. He spun around, coming face-to-face with a wild-haired woman. She smiled widely at him, revealing her rotted brown teeth. Caleb scrambled backward into the kitchen, his breath coming out in short pants.

"Oh Caleb, Caleb, Caleb," The British psycho spoke with ease, sighing loudly, "I'm terribly sorry but this has to be done," He took another step forward, "You see, I need to send my son a message,"

Caleb sputtered, his back against the refrigerator, "You need to do what now? Can't you just… send a letter?"

"Yes, I suppose, but your muggle method of sending mail is so _slow_," The man complained, reaching into his dress-like outfit. From it he drew a long stick, thin and polished. It rested in the man's hand like it was comfortable there. In his hand, it looked like a dangerous weapon.

It was ridiculous of course. If these people thought they could hurt him with a stick, they were sadly mistaken.

"Haha, very funny. Good luck trying to hurt me with _that_,"

"Oh you'd be surprised," The man commented, twirling it between his fingers. Suddenly, red sparks flew from the tip of the stick. Caleb startled. _How did he do that?_

"Enough of this!" The woman shouted suddenly, drawing Caleb's attention to her, "Can we kill him already?" She asked, impatiently.

Caleb felt his breath catch in his throat. _They were going to kill him, oh god, oh god, oh god._

"Patience, Bella," The man assured soothingly, "All in good time. We need to… question him first,"

"Question?" Caleb asked nervously, his voice raising a pitch. The man smirked and 'Bella' cackled.

"Do you know someone named Evan McDermitt?" She asked suddenly, drawing her own stick from her dress.

_Evan? What could they want with Evan?_

"Yes he's one of my employees… Why?"

The man turned to Caleb, nodding his head slowly, "Because he is not Evan McDermitt, that's why. He's… someone far more dangerous than you could ever understand,"

Evan? Dangerous? Never.

"Why… I've known Evan for years, he's a nice man! He always gets his work done and he's never gotten in an argument with anyone!" Caleb defended, crossing his arms. His eyes swept behind his interrogators, searching for a way out. He was going to call the police if only he could reach the phone in the living room…

"He's not all he says he is," The man informed him, slowly twirling that damn stick about his fingers again, "He's… He's like us,"

"Like you? You mean crazy and psychotic?" Caleb shouldn't have provoked them, but he was furious. _What were these people after anyway?_

"No," The man answered, "A wizard. And a Death Eater. And… and my son,"

"A what?" Caleb shifted slightly to his right. If he could just cause a distraction…

"A wizard! He has magic you stupid piece of muggle filth!" Bella screamed, her stick pointed at his chest, "He is one of us, and you are nothing!"

"Relax, Bella," The man commanded, his tone sharp. Bella backed off, the crazed look in her eye trained on her partner. The man sighed.

"I just want to know where he lives. Certainly you must know,"

"No," Caleb lied, "I don't,"

And with that he dove to the side of the woman, dodging her outstretched hands. Caleb dashed across the kitchen floor, desperate to reach the living room so he could call 9-1-1. Instead, he heard a loud shout of, '_Avada Kedavra_!' and a vague explosion of green light.

There was a split second in which Caleb Linney saw a flash of something. A memory. It was brief, but familiar. His two sons were smiling up at him, his wife Rita holding onto his arm. It was one of his favorite memories, from one of his boy's birthday parties. He couldn't remember which one now, but everyone had been so happy. It was the year before Rita's mom died and Caleb lost his job for a brief period of time and their family dog had run away. It was a moment of family togetherness and love that could never be twisted, even Caleb went through hell and back.

Then the moment was gone and Caleb Linney was no more. He'd fallen to the floor, dead.


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N- Wow. It has been far too long. I just sort of lost inspiration for this story for a while and I'm sorry! But I'm back, and I know exactly how the next chapter is going to go. I'll have it up in a week or two._

_Ok, several things to address about this chapter:_

_1. (More about the whole story really) I'm not trying to bash Lucius. I've read a lot of fics where the writer constantly bashes one character (or a group of characters) and makes them to be evil when, in the actual plot, they are misguided (or sometimes for no reason at all. I don't care if characters are ooc but when an author completely distorts that character from the original way they are portrayed by the reader it annoys me). Now, I think that Lucius in the novels/movies was not misguided per se, but he was taught to believe in the whole 'purebloods are superior' crap and he craved power. Voldemort gave him power. In the end, he was trying to save his family without being killed. Now, I still think that the Lucius in my story was like that at one point, but eventually, when the dark 'won' the war, he got more powerful. It went to his head, and drove him insane. Also Draco running away played a factor in that. Just to clear that up. (sorry for the rant)_

_2. Not much Hermione in this chapter, or Orion, but they will be in the next chapter,_

_That's actually it. Thanks for the reviews, faves and follows! You all are awesome. _

Chapter Twenty Three

_With that thought in mind, Hermione Granger pressed a little bit closer, tip-toed a little bit higher, and pressed her lips to his._

There was a moment of silence when she pulled away, leaving Draco to stare down at her. She was biting her lip shyly, her long eyelashes sweeping her cheeks bashfully. She didn't look like Hermione Granger in that moment; not strong, fearless and witty. She was afraid of rejection, of making a fool of herself.

Which she hadn't done. Not in the slightest.

"You're blushing," He whispered, tucking a strand of her impossible-to-manage hair behind her ear. Hermione glanced up.

"Anything other obvious comments you'd like to add?" She asked, crossing her arms. Draco smirked and stepped back.

"Not especially, no. Just the fact that you should've taken me to dinner first,"

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning her back to him, "Shut up you prat. Help me with these records,"

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on top of hers, "Do I have to?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly, sidestepping him again, "We do,"

Noticing the plural, Draco smiled and pushed aside his thoughts of romance. That could wait until later.

X

The following morning came bright and early. Draco awoke thinking of Hermione (_Merlin, I'm a fool, _He thought, somewhat bitterly), he ate breakfast thinking of Hermione (_Stop it right now, Draco Malfoy, she is just the mother of your child and an amazing woman… nothing special…), _and he drove to work thinking of Hermione (_Dear lord, if I run one of these cars off the road while I'm distracted I'll never forgive myself… will Hermione forgive me?). _Arriving at work, however, was another matter altogether.

"Morning Clara," The blonde called when he opened the doors. He glanced over at the front desk to find the secretary sobbing, her eye makeup running down her cheeks. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose obnoxiously loud.

"H-Hello Evan," Clara stuttered in reply, blowing her nose again. Draco took a step back, raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked somewhat critically. She was acting like a hormonal teenager.

"I-It's M-Mr. Linney… He's… He's D-d-dead!" Clara wailed, throwing her head into her hands. The blonde blinked, stepping back.

_He couldn't be dead, could he? That's impossible. Mr. Linney will walk through that door any minute, laughing at the wonderful prank he's pulled. Clara will win one of those… Whatever-awards for her performance and we can all get over this. In a few years this'll be the story they'll be telling at the Christmas parties; 'The day we tricked Evan!'_

"What did you say?" Draco asked, his face clear of all emotion. Clara withered under his gaze, her hands clenching and unclenching nervously.

"Mr. Linney… I… M-my cousin is the sh-sheriff, and I-I… he told me that… that t-they g-got a call from his w-wife… a-and…" Clara cut off, wailing louder into her tissue. Draco nodded curtly, walking down the hall to his office. He slipped his wand out of his pocket and whispered a silencing spell before opening the door to go in.

"_Expulso!" _Draco screamed, once he was sure the door was closed and locked. The wall his wand was pointed at exploded with a blast. Pieces of plaster flew across the room and dust settled over everything.

Rage was boiling up inside Draco until he let it out on his desk. Papers scattered across the floor, the desk nothing more than splinters now.

It was his father. He knew it. It was a message, a sign. That he was coming. That it wouldn't be long now. That Draco would have to run or fight. One or the other.

The blonde screamed again, louder this time, the urge to be _physical _drowning out all sense. He ripped open his filing cabinet drawers, throwing the files to the ground forcefully. The now empty shell of metal soon joined the papers and books on the floor, but it still wasn't enough.

It would never be enough. How many people would it take to get hurt, to get used, to get _killed, _to make it stop? First Hermione, Weaslette and Longbottom, tortured by Death Eaters. Blaise, who was walking the dangerous high-wire of being a double-agent. One wrong move, one reason he gave to make _them _doubt him, and Blaise was a dead man. Even Theo, who was a sneaky bastard, was risking himself to give them information about Lucius' plans.

And Orion.

Gods, he was just a child. A boy who'd been through more in four short years than most people had been through in a life time. He was still so innocent, so unknowledgeable about the world, yet he knew more about the horrors humans could inflict than Draco himself did. People weren't born monsters, they were taught to be that way.

Lucius had been taught, first by his parents, then by Voldemort. The once cold man Draco had known growing up had transformed into a mad man.

Suddenly exhausted, Draco fell to his knees, head in his hands. He took a deep breath through his nose, releasing it with a sigh. He then stood, surveying the damage in the room.

Nothing a quick _Reparo _couldn't fix.

The once Malfoy heir fiddled with the wand in his hand. It was good to be using it again; he'd missed the familiar power of his magic, shifting under his skin to greet his wand. It felt _right. _

That's when he decided.

He would fight. No matter the cost, he would defend his family and (Merlin help him) his friends. He would win, or die trying.

(_But he wasn't turning into a Gryffindor- what a notion- no, he was formulating a plan. Granted, it was a bollocks plan that required getting others involved, but a war is won by an army, not a single soldier.)_

Draco Malfoy wasn't going to give up, no matter the cost.

Perhaps he was more alike to his father than he'd thought.

X

Jasmine sighed, picking up the dirty dishes on the table. She was tired. Tired of her children always bickering and pushing each other's buttons. Tired of her mother always requesting her presence at the house she grew up in. Tired of her husband always going on business trips. Tired of her brother fighting with his ex-wife Lucy. But most of all, she was tired of the lies. Of the half-hidden truths. She knew there was something going on, something with Evan, Julia and maybe Blaise. Everything felt… _off. _Like she should know something, but it was being hidden from her, from everybody.

That was a very unnerving feeling.

_No matter, _she thought bitterly, washing a plate with a towel under the steady stream of water from the sink, _Every person, every family, has their secrets. For example, ours was that my brother was a wizard._

Jasmine turned the sink off, hands on her hips. She should've been on her way to work, she really should've. Instead she took a day off to assist her mother in cleaning. Another day being the underappreciated child, another day trying to appease her mother. But she was never special enough. Not compared to Benjamin, who went to a _magical _school and had _magical _friends and knew _magical _things.

That's all she ever wanted; to be like her younger brother. She was supposed to have gotten a letter too, on her eleventh birthday, to have an owl and go on adventures and have a wand.

Sometimes, Jasmine liked to think that it would've been better had they never known magic existed in the first place.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of the door bell ringing.

Opening the door, she expected it to be a sales person or perhaps a new boarder. Instead, she was face-to-face with a blonde man. His hair was long and tied back, a small smirk curving up the corner of his mouth. His clothes were out of place, long, flowing, and black. Behind him, a woman with wild hair and a torn dress stood. The look in her eyes was nothing less than hatred. Off to the side was a young, brunette man. He, unlike the other two, had on somewhat normal clothes; a button-down shirt and jeans.

The man's smirk had transformed into a smile, revealing perfectly white teeth.

"Hello," His voice was low, his accent British, "I'm here looking for a man by the name of Evan. Evan McDermitt," He glanced at the boy behind him, "Right, Theo?"

"Wha- Yeah," 'Theo' was also British, and he sounded nervous. Jasmine could imagine why; spending time with this creepy guy and crazy lady had to be unnerving.

"Well, Evan is at work. You can come back later, I suppose—"

"Could we come in then?" The man asked, his polite façade still in place, "We'll wait for him,"

Jasmine was beginning to feel uncomfortable, "Um, he won't be home for several hours—"

"He's my son," The man added. Jasmine looked closer at his features, realizing that he did look quite a bit like Evan. The hair and eyes were the same, and they had similar features.

In all the times that she'd spent time with Evan, he'd never once mentioned his family. Whenever the topic came up, he would made a comment completely unrelated. After a while, Jasmine understood that it was a forbidden conversation and she hadn't brought it up since.

If this man was his father, she could see why.

"Please, this is a boarding house, there are other people—"

His smile dropped, "I'm sorry, I don't think you heard me," He whispered, his voice dropping several an octave. He reached into his pocket and retrieved one of… one of those w_ands, "_I'd like to come into your house to wait for my son and his friends to get home from work," The wand was pressed against her stomach now. Jasmine wondered if this was some sort of surreal dream.

The man's smile was back.

"_Please?_"


End file.
